


I'm Home

by byoomgothegunboi



Series: The Washington Heights Project [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon for In the Heights, F/M, M/M, but not really, for Hamilton anyway, idk you should just read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-11-23 03:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byoomgothegunboi/pseuds/byoomgothegunboi
Summary: Usnavi's memories, as he says, feel like dying embers from a dream he can't remember.Why's that?And more importantly, why does he look so much like Alexander Hamilton?Updates bi-weekly. (Haha get it? Cuz he's... never mind.)





	1. Usnavi

“SONNY DE LA VEGA!"

Usnavi de la Vega slammed his fist on the counter and sighed. According to his watch, it was almost three o’clock. The bodega was empty except for him and Sonny’s stupid candy bar wrapper sitting on the counter next to him. He knew he should throw it away, but that wasn’t the point. For the principle of the thing, he should wait until his cousin came back in and then demand that he take care of his own shit. So the candy bar didn’t move.

Sonny was out back sorting the trash. _Well,_ Usnavi thought, _“sorting the trash.”_ He used the phrase loosely for a multitude of reasons: 1) Sonny looked FORWARD to doing it every day, anxiously fidgeting until two o'clock came around and then practically running out to the back, 2) actually rummaging through trash shouldn’t take SO DAMN LONG, and 3) nobody grinned that hugely after coming back from a wallow in old filth. Sometimes he heard voices coming from the dumpster behind their bodega, loud laughing and happy conversation drifting through the air.

Usnavi just hoped Sonny wasn’t hanging out with Graffiti Pete. The punk was the worst possible role model for his cousin, himself included. His eyes narrowed and he prickled with anger whenever the stupid vandal followed Sonny through the doors of his bodega, singing a stupid sales pitch or bragging about his latest “project” (read: his initials and some color plastered on an empty wall). He prickled even more when Sonny looked back at him, laughing, talking, defending him against Usnavi’s protests. Their conversation was too friendly and their laughs rolled off too easily for his taste.

Thinking of the pair caused an all-too familiar throbbing just above Usnavi’s right eye. He rubbed it absentmindedly. The pain was always there, but sometimes it hit especially hard; when he thought about Vanessa (which was more often than he’d like to admit), when he listened to debates on TV, and when he heard certain phrases (Some odd ones being “ten duel commandments” and “non-stop”). Abuela Claudia said it was his encephalitis, caused by a recurrence of measles. Or something. He kind of tuned out all the medical talk. He’d have to go to her apartment and get another dose of the blue pills she said kept the problem at bay.

Thinking about Abuela brought a smile to his lips, despite the throbbing pain pounding insistently at his eyebrow. She had always been there for him. He’d returned to the barrio about four years ago after he got out of the hospital. Well, “returned.” He was very confused; he had woken up in a hospital bed next to a couple in adjacent beds who mumbled to each other as if they were the only two in the world. The nurses told him that those were his parents, and that they had gotten the same brain disease that he had (so they didn’t recognize him, not that it was much of a problem, seeing as he didn’t recognize THEM either). They told him that the three of them (him and his parents) had lived in a little place in Washington Heights, and that his parents owned a store on a corner there. However, Usnavi didn’t remember any of it. He didn’t try very hard, of course, because it brought on the eye-throbbing with such tremendous force that he’d cry out, and the doctors would rush in and inject some sort of chemical into his IV line until the pain subsided. 

Abuela lived a few rooms over from him, but he was in her house so often it was basically his. She was the first one to greet him after a black car had dropped him and a tiny suitcase off on a freezing cold corner in the middle of winter, a couple of days after his parents had finally gotten sick and passed away. He had been startled when she immediately pulled him into a hug and whispered, “Usnavi. ¿Cómo estás?” From there, he had been led by her hand, quite literally, into his new (or, well, old?) life.

Abuela Claudia had introduced him to Sonny, who was apparently a cousin of his. He was also greeted by a few people who passed by on the street: the owner of a dispatch station, a piraguero, and some girls who stuck their head out of a salon just in time to see him walk past. The only face he found familiar belonged to a man his age they called Benny, who was apparently a childhood friend of his.

“And this is your store,” Abuela had said, gesturing to the building on the same corner he’d been dropped off at after taking a round-trip around the neighborhood. Abuela had kept a running commentary the whole time, but Usnavi hadn’t been paying much attention. He was looking for something, anything, that looked familiar. Thus far, only Benny.

He looked at it apprehensively at her words. “MY store?” He’d asked.

“It was your parents’ before they passed,” Abuela replied gently. “It’s yours now. Your cousin Sonny was in charge of it while you guys were in the hospital. He’s in there now.”

Usnavi had looked up at her. “Why don’t I remember any of this?” He’d asked. He watched her kind eyes and wrinkles get smaller as her lips tugged into a gentle smile. “All in good time, Usnavi. Paciencia y fe. I will take you to your apartment and we will talk more there.” They had gone to their apartment and Abuela had explained more about the infection, the encephalitis, all the pills that it required, and a crap ton of other medical stuff. His amnesia was apparently caused by whatever brain inflammation he had suffered. The only thing that wasn’t entirely clear was why his head hurt so damn much, but she’d chalked it up to a side effect of his sickness, and Usnavi was inclined to believe her. He’d only really known her for an hour then (well, in lucid memory), but he already knew that she’d never lie to him.

She had tried to make up for the lack of explanation by talking more about his past life. Apparently, he’d lived just on the edge of Washington Heights in a house with his parents. He had a couple friends in the Heights from high school, and his parents had owned a bodega in the heart of the barrio. 

He’d pretended like some of the story was familiar.

It wasn’t.

“Jesus,” he sighed under his breath. It was so frustrating how vividly he remembered that first day four years ago, but how murky the day before it, or any days before that, were. Of course, he’d grown to love the barrio, and all the people in it. It had only been a matter of days before faces started to look familiar, regular customers and new (or old) friends. And it had only taken the entire four years to ask Vanessa out (well, technically Sonny did it for him, but still). But sometimes he looked out of his bodega window and wondered what would happen if he left, if he went to where his parents were from (Dominican Republic, according to the little stuff that he could remember them rambling about). He wondered if things would come back to him, if the dying embers of their stories would spark memories in his own mind.

“YO USNAVI!” A voice shook him out of his thoughts and he jumped, turning toward the source of it. It was Jose, a regular customer. “Where’s the motherfucking rice?”

“Aisle three,” he responded. This was a normal exchange for them; Jose was loud and brash and owned the liquor store right down the street, which explained his constant lack of self-awareness. Daniela had mentioned he’d been sleeping with Julio, too, which was just another piece of information he’d added to his running memory bank.

He knew his regular customers like the back of his hand. There was Jose, and Julio, the constant flirt, and Yesenia, Julio’s girlfriend (or, rather, ex-girlfriend, he supposed), Yolanda, who didn’t speak english, Pablo, who only came in for sour lemonheads, Gina, who never came in when Sonny was around because apparently they dated and it hadn't ended well, and a whole bunch more. Between the bodega and the salon next door, he figured that they knew more things about the people who lived there than anyone else. They certainly knew more secrets and gossip than they would have liked, that was for sure. Something about the ambience of the place, he assumed, made people believe that it was like the confession booth of the ghetto. It was just something he’d come to accept with the territory.

Jose paid for his (motherfucking) rice by walking out with a sack of it on his shoulders and calling out, “just add it to my tab.” Problem was, he didn’t have a tab.

Usnavi sure as hell wasn’t going to call out an angry drunk on the fact, though, so he sighed and picked up a pen, scribbling the cost down on a slip of paper. Jose was usually sober in the mornings before work, so he’d remind him about it then. He was always apologetic about the stuff he did when he was drunk, so he’d pay it back immediately.

The bodega bell chimed again and he looked up to see Yesenia. He gave her a smile, but it appeared that she was trying to hide her face because she ignored him and made a beeline for the freezer.

_Poor girl, _he thought. As much as he knew about the happenings around town, he’d made a promise to himself long ago not to get too involved with them. Still, he hated seeing people so sad. He made up his mind and gave her another smile as she walked up to the cash register with a quart of vanilla ice cream and a plastic spoon, still hiding her face.__

____

“Rough day?” He asked, and she just nodded.

____

He offered her the metal spoon he used to stir coffee and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were a little puffy and bloodshot, and her cheeks were all red. She sniffled, confused.

____

“You can’t let any anger out with that flimsy plastic spoon. Use this instead,” he told her, handing her the metal one. She took it slowly and looked back up at him.

____

“And don’t worry about the ice cream. It’s on me.”

____

Oh, how good it made him feel when he could make somebody smile. She sniffled again as she picked up the ice cream quart and put the spoon on top, but he could tell her mood had brightened.

____

“Thanks, Usnavi,” she smiled, nodding before turning and heading out the door.

____

He watched her go, smiling despite himself. The bodega bell rang cheerily again as she exited. _You’ve got to stop giving stuff away for free,_ he reminded himself, but then ignored the thought. It was for a good cause, anyway.

____

Usnavi turned around at the sound of the back door opening and closing, and composed his face just in time to glare at Sonny as he emerged through the doorway, grinning widely.

____

“Sonny, you’re late. You were supposed to be back _half an hour ago._ ”

____

“Chillax, cuz, you know you love me.”

____

“Shut up and do something productive. Get some dirt on those Nikes.” With that, Sonny’s smile grew even wider as he shuffled to a side room to unpack boxes. Usnavi sighed, watching him leave with a growing annoyance, both at his nonchalance and the fact that he'd forgotten to remind him about the candy wrapper.

____

_Goddammit, you had ONE FUCKING JOB, Usnavi,_ he thought, frowning until the bell on the front door indicated a new customer.

_____ _

He turned around and met a very strange sight indeed.

_____ _

There was a man, not much taller than him, standing frozen just past the doorframe. The door behind him closed, sending a whirl of wind through his curly brown hair. Freckles covered his face and hands, and had he not been wearing a jacket, Usnavi would have seen the dots splashed across his arms, too. He stood stock-still, one arm slightly behind him in an attempt to catch the already-closed door, his feet paused mid-step, as he stared at Usnavi.

_____ _

And he was _gorgeous _.__

_______ _ _ _

Usnavi never stood still. If he was nervous, he’d bite his lip, or drum his fingers on the counter, or tap his foot. Now he found himself doing all three. Feeling more than slightly uncomfortable under such scrutiny by such a handsome man, he directed his gaze to the stranger’s eyes, opening his mouth in an attempt to form a greeting, and immediately closing it, helpless.

_______ _ _ _

Cute Stranger had brilliant green eyes shaped like almonds, with wide, dark pupils and thick eyelashes. Usnavi was staring back at this point, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Besides the fact that the man was built like a fucking _god, _his eyes sparked something in Usnavi’s mind.__

____

_______ _ _ _

____

He was _sure_ he’d seen this man before. He tried to place the face, and realized abruptly that the throbbing in his eyebrow, which had always beat dully when he thought about his past, was now completely silent, gone.

____

_______ _ _ _

____

The man broke him out of his reverie, his green eyes wide, as he took a step forward tentatively, almost as if Usnavi would dissolve if he moved any faster. His lips parted and he seemed to be struggling for words. Finally, a single word escaped from his mouth, barely a whisper.

____

_______ _ _ _

____

“Alexander?”

____

_______ _ _ _

____

It was Usnavi’s turn to stand frozen.

____

_______ _ _ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whether or not anybody wanted this, heeeeeeeere we go.


	2. Abuela Claudia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Abuela Claudia aware that Usnavi looks exactly like a dead guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I don't think I mentioned this, but this is all pre-blackout. Well, I mean, you've probably figured that out from the fact that Abuela Claudia is still living, but still. Presently the story is at the time right before someone wins the lottery.

_Carajo._

_Carajo, carajo, carajo._

Abuela paced back and forth on the bathroom tiles, running her hand through her cloud of white hair. Usnavi was sitting on her couch outside, sipping a mug of her best _café con leche_ (with one can of condensed milk, since the barrio’s fridge had broken down). _Why?_ She asked herself. _Why didn’t you just grab him?_

_She saw the man strolling down the streets of the barrio, about a block from Usnavi’s bodega. Her eyes were initially drawn to him because of his unfamiliarity. She had been there long enough to know every single face that passed, her mouth usually plastered with a smile in constant greeting. So when the curly-haired, freckled man passed her, politely returning her smile, she couldn’t help but turn around and look back at him. Despite his unfamiliarity, he looked like someone she should’ve known. As she searched her mind for the source of the face, dread settled slowly in the pit of her stomach. There was really only one way she could have recognized him without ever seeing him before._

_Why, why?_ She asked again, still pacing. _I should’ve just stopped him, grabbed him and politely turned him the other way._ Even if her hunch was incorrect, he only would’ve been one potential customer. The loss of one source of income was inconsequential compared to Usnavi’s safety.

_Instead of grabbing him, she rushed back to her apartment (faster than the average 78-year-old, thanks to her training, but she still arrived out of breath) and walked, hands shaking, to her bookshelf. There was a rather large book– on what, she wasn’t sure, she’d never read it– on the third shelf that she lifted into her arms and carried over to the kitchen counter. She grabbed a knife and opened the front cover, sliding the blade between the cover paper and the backing. It slid off easily, revealing a thin manila folder labeled Usnavi de la Vega. Hands still shaking, she opened it and set aside two, three, four pages until she found what she was looking for: a single paper lined with rows and rows of headshots._

Abuela had been in the bathroom too long, even for a woman of her age. Usnavi would start to worry soon. Absentmindedly, she flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, running her hands under the cold water as she remembered the what the paper had looked like.

 _There were four sections of eight faces each, four to a row. She quickly skimmed the lowermost section, labeled_ Code 3: Documentation, _but didn’t find the man’s face._

Abuela knew what the codes meant. If Usnavi came into contact with any of the Code 3 faces, they’d have to be documented and reported on. They’d be under government surveillance for a while, just to make sure they didn’t do anything suspicious, but the whole thing would blow over rather quickly, and nobody would need to know a thing.

 _The one above it was_ Code 2: Demonstration. _Abuela scanned the faces quickly and moved up, the dread in her stomach sinking further and further down all the while._

If any of the Code 2 people saw Usnavi, she’d have to report them to the agency, who would talk to them about the incident and, well, Abuela didn’t know exactly what they did, but they made sure the people wouldn’t come back. For the most part, Usnavi remained unaffected. The rest of the codes were different. If anybody from those sections recognized Usnavi, he would definitely find out. The consequences were massive.

 _The next section was_ Code 1B: Confrontation. _If the man was in this section of the paper, she’d have to take him out as quickly as possible-- even if that meant killing him. She felt a momentary relief as she scanned the pictures, not finding a freckled face, but it was gone as her eyes finally lifted to the top section:_ Code 1A: Relocation. _With trepidation, she scanned each face slowly, nervous to flick her eyes to the next picture. The dread sunk further and further down as the scanned the last few faces: there was a slender man with delicate facial hair, dark skin, and frizzy hair pulled up into a smooth bun, and an obviously muscled man with even darker skin and close-cropped hair tied behind a bandana. Finally, she met the face on the very top of the page, and her stomach flipped as her dread was replaced by blind panic. Staring back at her was a man with freckled skin, curly hair, green eyes, and the very same polite smile she saw earlier rested on his face._

_Carajo._

Code 1A was the one that everyone in her position feared. Even despite the other possible scenarios-- the shootouts, the bomb threats, the bioterrorism-- they all hoped that they’d never have a Code 1A on their hands. If anybody on the Code 1A list saw Usnavi, he would have to be removed. And just not from the situation.

If the man in the picture recognized the owner of the bodega two streets down, Usnavi would be moved out of the barrio forever.

_It had taken her all of six seconds to put everything back into the folder, which went back in the book cover, which went back on the shelf. Twenty seconds later she was running out of her apartment and out toward the bodega, hoping with every fiber of her being that he was just passing through, that he would not give in to the inclination to stop at a corner store for a cold water on a hot summer day. Naturally, the universe did not grant her wish._

_“Sorry, who?” Usnavi asked, staring curiously at the stranger from the counter when Abuela rushed in. She hurried over to him, casting a quick glance over her shoulder at the man, trying to keep the fear from revealing itself in her features._

Maybe the stranger didn’t recognize him. Maybe four years was enough time for the face to fade from his memory. Maybe Usnavi had changed so much that he was unrecognizable.

_“Buenos dias,” she said to him before looking back at Usnavi. “Ah, Usnavi, come quickly. I need your help.” Usnavi opened his mouth to protest but she shook her head. “Sonny can man the register now. Your customers will have to wait.” With that, she took his arm, vaguely yelled something to Sonny, wherever he was, and left out the front door, not casting a second glance at the man still half-frozen in the doorway._

~~~

“Abuela?” called Usnavi from the couch.

“Just a minute.” With one last desperate look in the mirror at her hair, now thoroughly frazzled from having her hands run through them so many times, she took a deep breath and left the bathroom to attempt to dig them out of the predicament they’d gotten into– or, rather, the predicament the strange, freckled man had gotten them into.

“How are you?” She asked, settling on the couch next to him. He looked up at her, confusion evident in his eyes.

“I’m fine. I thought you needed help?”

_Oh. Right._

“I thought… I thought you took your pills from my medicine cabinet, because I couldn’t find them. But never mind, they were hidden behind my heart stuff,” she explained quickly. She hated lying to him, but her work required confidentiality.

“Why don’t you take YOUR medicine, since you’re so religious about me taking mine?”

Abuela sighed. “You are young, you’ve got your life ahead of you. I am old and slow, I don’t need anything that’s gonna make me any older and slower.”

“Well, you certainly weren’t that slow in getting me up here.”

There was a tangible shift in the mood of the room.

“Abuela…”

“Yes?”

“There was… there was a customer today– I don’t know if you saw him– when you ran in? He looked really familiar.”

“Probably somebody from around the barrio, _mijo,_ ” Abuela answered, trying to keep her tone as light as possible.

Usnavi nodded slowly, then shook his head vigorously. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m probably making a big deal about nothing.” Abuela felt another pang of guilt. In the four years she’d known him, she’d never gotten used to that wide-eyed look he gave her when she lied to him. Complete trust. Usnavi didn’t know better. Usnavi didn’t have a reason to know better. Abuela Claudia would never lie to anybody. She was a doting grandmother. Washington Heights’ Patron Saint.

Certainly not an undercover federal agent.

“No, it’s okay. You never have to apologize for that,” she whispered, pulling him into an embrace. “Sometimes it’s important. Maybe he was an old friend of yours.” She hesitated, searching for a good way to phrase her next question. “Did he... do anything that caught your eye when he came in?” Abuela chose her words carefully, feeling them burn her throat on the way out. He didn’t deserve all the confusion, all the pain that she knew she inflicted. Still, she kept her mouth shut as she waited for the reply.

“Actually, he… no, never mind, it’s stupid.”

“ _No, por favor, Usnavi, cuéntame._ ”

“Well, he– I don’t know, it won’t sound like much now, but it was weird, when he said it– I think he called me Alexander.”

Any hope, any false pretenses she’d put up of “it’s going to be okay” came crashing down as Usnavi yelped out of her embrace and pressed both hands against his brow. Abuela could only stare at the broken man sitting there, choking back tears of her own. The man had recognized him. He and everyone else would learn, eventually, of the implications of that. In that moment, though, her pain went beyond the hard-hitting reality that he would have to leave. More than anything, she wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to open her arms and hug him and never let go until every single detail about his past was known to him, until the pain left and never came back. The only thing stopping her was the large book on the third shelf of her bookshelf that drew her eyes every time she could bear to look away from Usnavi. It reminded her of the importance of her silence.

Only she could know why that spot on his brow hurt him so much. Only she could know about the scar on the very top of his head, hidden from others by his cap and small enough to remain unfelt as Usnavi ran his fingers across his scalp. Only she could know what the blue pills she forced him to take every day actually did.

If not, he’d be dead.

“I think you need a day off, Usnavi,” she finally said quietly. “Go take two pills– the white ones, you already had blue today– and I’ll walk you home.”

Usnavi shook his head. “I’m not– it’s just–”

Abuela pushed him to the bathroom. “No, you’re having a bad day. Your customers will understand that you need to take care of yourself first. You need quiet, you need sleep. Trust me. Go on.”

Finally, Usnavi removed his hands from his forehead and ambled to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Abuela took a deep breath to calm her nerves. If he couldn't be at peace with himself- and of course he couldn't, she hadn't expected him to be- she had to be there for him. She heard the faucet turn on and off and the medicine cabinet open and close. When Usnavi emerged, she gave him a warm smile. She held her hand out to him and he took it, letting her lead him out the door and into the hallway.

“Come, you’ll feel a lot better when you’re home.”

They walked in silence to Usnavi’s apartment. Usnavi clung to her arm like it was a lifeline the whole way there. When they finally arrived and Usnavi unlocked his door, Abuela ushered him to bed and tucked him in. “You get some sleep, now. I’ll go and tell Sonny you’re taking the rest of the day off. I’ll give him some food, too, just in case you guys want to eat later.”

“Kid’s surrounded by food all day,” Usnavi murmured. Abuela chuckled softly.

“I’ll bring him real food.” She turned to leave.

“Abuela?” called Usnavi. She turned back around.

“Yes?”

A pause as Usnavi formulated his question. She could still see the brokenness in his wide eyes. It was always there. It had been there since the day he arrived in a black car that December with a tiny suitcase.

“Is it… am I gonna be like this forever?”

Abuela Claudia thought about the freckled man and what he meant for Usnavi. What he meant for the barrio. He deserved at least one truth today, even if it was only a partial one. She leaned over and pressed her lips to his forehead.

“No, _mijo_. Big things are happening soon, I can feel it. Paciencia y fe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading :D
> 
> P.S. Okay so I have a couple chapters in queue that have already been pretty much finished. Would anyone be interested in me putting like the first sentence or something of the next chapter here?


	3. Abuela Claudia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was anybody else seriously disturbed by the fact that Abuela Claudia just RANDOMLY won the lottery?  
> No?  
> Oh, ok then.

Abuela Claudia stared at the picture frame hanging on the wall right above her old television. It was from Sonny’s fourteenth birthday party a couple of years ago. It was a complete candid, spur-of the moment image, but of all the pictures they’d taken that night, this one was her favorite. Sonny grinned his huge, goofy grin under a paper party hat while Graffiti Pete laughed by his side, arm slung around Sonny’s shoulder. Benny was in mid-motion, placing a tray of cupcakes on a table and the Rosarios (without Nina, who was off on her college visit) stood behind him, each bearing trays of their own. Vanessa was near them, wielding a lighter like a weapon as she gestured frantically to the pack of candles in Carla’s hand. Daniela was on the other side of the frame, smiling and reaching out a finger to poke Usnavi in the side. The man looked back at her, mid-laugh. Even in the still photograph she could see him moving, his eyes flitting from here to here, his hands constantly in motion, his mouth letting loose a never-ending string of words.

Before Usnavi, life was different. Abuela had a different case assignment: Mandy Gonzalez, the orphan whose parents were assassinated when she was an infant. That was different, though. She was still young, so she went to actual parents (Kevin and Camila Rosario, the owners of the dispatch station) who rechristened her Nina Rosario. She loved Nina dearly. She shone brightly at school and at home, amazing her family, and her compassion could only be rivaled by that of her birth parents, both of whom Abuela had been good friends with before they passed.

Then Usnavi came along. He brought with him an energy that she’d never seen before, a passion for life that hummed louder than the power lines outside her apartment. After he got acquainted with his new life, he threw himself into it so violently, so wholeheartedly, that she wasn’t sure whether or not the his case files were correct, or if the backstory she’d told him was actually true. Every day at the crack of dawn, he’d be rolling up the bodega grate, greeting the neighbors good morning, slyly sliding gratuitous coffee cups into the hands of those that looked like they needed it, and smiling at everyone who entered. People went in sleepy and came out with grins on their faces, talking and laughing and ready to take on life.

He changed everyone. Before Usnavi came, Benny Washington had been perfectly content with riding on the coattails of his family. His chronically absent father was a land broker in New York and actually inherited the entirety of Washington Heights (hence the name, which came from his great-great-great grandfather). His half-brother was the ex-president of the United States who was widely popular for his respectable military background and strong moral compass. He figured, with a brother to call on when he needed a loan and a father who would eventually pass down the entire neighborhood, there was no need to make something of himself. He occupied himself mindless labor at Kevin Rosario’s dispatch, content with mediocrity. That all changed when he met Usnavi. Now, he actually dedicated himself to his job. He began to learn the ropes and ask for more things to do, saving up for business school. He wouldn’t settle for getting the neighborhood; he wanted the world.

Sonny changed, too. After both his parents passed, he would stay with Abuela Claudia, and Nina, who had been his after-school babysitter, always complained about him not doing anything ever (except hopelessly crush on her). He always spent most of his time sulking on the couch, watching telenovelas or running around the streets getting into all sorts of trouble. Usnavi had been a role model for him, though. At first she wasn’t sure about how he would react to having to care for a younger cousin, but he rose to the challenge splendidly. Sure, Sonny still skipped class once in awhile, and sure, he hung out with Graffiti Pete a few times more than was comfortable, but his newfound responsibility in working at the bodega made him appreciate what he had more, and he found a new passion in the things he did. Now, he was everyone’s little brother and secretly threw himself into community issues. The latter was DEFINITELY something he picked up from Usnavi.

Then there was Vanessa. She had always wanted to get out of the barrio. She knew she was destined for bigger and better things than a job cutting hair and gossiping about everyone on the block. In that sense, she could be a little standoffish at times. On occasion, Abuela could coax tight smiles and small conversation from her before she was gone again, off to go check up on her statements or read the local listings for studio openings. The only person she really opened up to was Nina, but then again _nobody_ could NOT be friends with her. When Vanessa walked into the bodega and was greeted by a smiling Usnavi for the first time, Abuela thanked her lucky stars that she was there to witness the hilarious show that was Usnavi Trying And Failing To Hold A Conversation With Vanessa, Who Was Trying And Failing To Get Her Stuff And Get Out As Quickly As Possible. To her immense surprise, though, after the next couple of visits, Vanessa would sit at the counter and talk amiably with him, and even flash genuine smiles at the people who walked up to pay. Now, even though she was still set on finding a studio downtown, she loved talking to people and became fast friends with Daniela and Carla, who worked at her salon, and Usnavi.

Usnavi had changed Nina’s life, too. One day, Abuela took her out for coffee at the bodega to take a break from her college applications. Of course, Nina didn’t want to lose them, so she took them with her. Usnavi had been there, of course, wiping down the counter, when he looked over at her papers. “What’s this? College apps?” he’d asked, and Nina nodded back. “Where to?” Nina had read off her list of schools, mostly small community colleges close by. “Where’s the Stanford one?” Usnavi had asked after she’d finished. Nina laughed and shook her head wildly, saying she was nowhere near good enough to get into Stanford, much less afford it. “WELL WHY THE HELL NOT?” had been Usnavi’s reply, before he launched into a half-hour speech about how brilliant and kind and compassionate and freaking awesome Nina was and hell, if people at Stanford were supposed to be SMART, they’d recognize that and take her in a heartbeat.

And where had Nina just come back from after her first semester?

Stanford University.

Sure, she was on academic leave and needed to accept her father’s money to go back, but that was besides the point.

Usnavi was the catalyst for all the change to the lives that entered the bodega. Everything the barrio was _now_ was because of him. He started as an outsider in the beginning. But in four years, he’d become the heart of the community, just like his bodega was the heart of the neighborhood.

Abuela Claudia felt a tear run down her cheek as she turned her eyes from the picture to the sleek black phone in her hand. It only had one number on it, and her hand hesitated over the call button. If she called, the barrio’s heart would be ripped right out, gone as suddenly as it had come. Maybe they could learn to cope without him, but it was certain that life would never be the same.

But she _had_ to call. It was simply the nature of the game. The Agency had warned her about taking her undercover position in the Heights years ago. They said the personal assignments were always difficult; the long-term stations even more so. It wasn’t like a regular, no-strings-attached sort of job. You would _have_ to make emotional attachments, and if the time came, you would have to sever them and move on, over and over again. It took a special kind of person to do it.

Abuela closed her eyes and pressed her thumb down on the call button. The other end picked up immediately.

“Agent Claudia,” a male voice greeted, not coldly, but not warmly, either.

“That’s me.”

“Case name?”

“Usnavi de la Vega.”

Abuela heard a keyboard clacking on the other end, then a slight pause. “Washington Heights, Victim Protection Project?” The voice chirped briskly.

“Correct.”

“What is your reason of correspondence?”

Abuela paused, acknowledging the enormity of her next few words. “We got a Code 1A.”

There was a silence on the other end. Then–

“Woah. You sure? 1A?”

“Positive.”

The man’s voice on the other end grew softer. “Geez. That’s tough. Sorry to hear it.”

“I am, too. But there’s nothing we can do now but get him out of there.”

“You got a plan?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, I’ll send in your team and refer you to your director.”

“Thank you.” Abuela tried to keep the quaver of emotion out of her voice.

“Oh, and Agent Claudia?”

“Yes, sir?”

She swore the pause dropped the temperature in the room a solid ten degrees, but that was probably just her emotions running high. “I really am sorry to hear it.”

The next call was all business. Her director informed her that her team would arrive in an hour, and the money she needed would be made available the next day or so via her lottery ticket. They decided that to keep the freckle-faced man, or anyone else, from coming into contact with Usnavi until they got him out, they needed to shut down the neighborhood. The director set a date for the city-wide blackout. They said their goodbyes, and then once again, Abuela was on her own, staring at the picture above her television set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like I think one person responded to the question I asked in the chapter before but OH WELLS starting next chapter I'm putting a sneak peak of the chapter AFTER.
> 
> I love you all and as always, thank you for reading :)


	4. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL CONCUSSIONS SUCK SO MUCH I HAVENT SEEN A SCREEN IN SEVEN DAYS (I'm not even supposed to be on it right now lol) BUT TAKE THIS LARGELY UNEDITED CHAPTER AND ALSO THANK YOU IN ADVANCE FOR ANY COMMENTS THAT I CANT SEE
> 
> Ok so chapter summary: Here's the beginning of horrible song interpretations

For the second time in as many days, Usnavi found himself drumming his fingers impatiently on the counter while Sonny was out back “sorting the trash.” He felt his mind wander to the strange, beautiful freckled man and hoped that he would walk through the door again, staring intently with his wide green eyes. He wanted desperately to see that face again, to stare back at it, and decipher why exactly it looked so familiar. For some reason, Abuela’s excuse saying he was from around the barrio didn’t satisfy him. Abuela did a lot for him, but she just didn’t see the same striking familiarity in those bright eyes. And then there was that name. _Alexander._ Hearing it was the closest he’d ever come to remembering something before the hospital.

Unfortunately, the universe didn’t bring him back.

He shook his head and tried to clear the man from his mind. He thought about Vanessa instead, her long black hair and melodious voice coming clearly to his mind’s eye. He, at least, knew he would be seeing her again– he remembered with a jolt that they had a date in– he checked his watch– exactly six hours and forty-two minutes.

He thought about the first time he met her, that day she walked into the bodega, completely ignored him, and strolled purposefully into the aisles to get her stuff. She didn’t even look at him until she brought her stuff for him to ring up.

_“Hey,” Usnavi ventured, trying to catch her eye as he scanned the items._

_She didn’t look up. “Hey.”_

_“Whole milk, huh?” He tried again, holding it up with the intention of showing off his arms._

_As it turned out, milk was pretty heavy. He gracefully dropped it on the counter with a loud BANG. And of course, Vanessa finally looked up at him then to see the redness rising on his cheeks. He cleared his throat._

_“Good choice. Protein. Makes ya strong.”_

_“You should start drinking more, then,” Vanessa replied, smiling, before paying and waving goodbye._

_Usnavi turned around to see Sonny smack his forehead in exasperation._

~~~ 

Usnavi had coaxed more and more words out of her with each passing visit, until she chatted amiably with him at the counter. He was mesmerized by her long, straight dark hair and black eyes that lit up fiercely when she talked about her plans of getting a studio. The same dull throbbing he got when he tried to remember Benny’s face was present whenever he thought about her, although he was sure he’d never seen Vanessa before.

He was startled out of his reminiscing by the bodega’s door jingling. He looked up, expecting to see Benny, or Vanessa, or even the man who had called him Alexander. But to his anger, it was Graffiti Pete. He felt even more anger boil up in his chest when at that moment, Sonny pranced out of the back room, grinning his huge “I-just-got-done-sorting-the-trash” grin. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that they’d ended up in the bodega at the same time, and Usnavi’s theories about who Sonny was with when he was back there were all but confirmed. He was going to punch Pete in the face.

“What do you want?” He nearly growled. Sonny answered on behalf of the vandal, which made him prickle even more.

“He wants you to buy his shirt,” Sonny sang.

“What?”

"Buy my shirt," Pete repeated, pulling a shirt out of seemingly nowhere. It was a plain black t-shirt with spray paint slashes all over it.

_What a fucking masterpiece._

"That's it? That's your sales pitch? 'Buy my shirt.'"

"Well... yeah," he replied, confused.

Sonny nodded like he had just recited a poem or some shit. Unsafe was going to punch Pete in the face.

The bell on the door jingled again. It was Benny. “Yo, Usnavi! What's up?” he asked, throwing a newspaper on the counter.

“I just almost got pulled into a _fantastic_ sales venture,” he replied sarcastically.

"Oooh, we talkin' money?"

"Hah. I wish," said Usnavi, glaring at Pete. He was too preoccupied with folding up his shirt to notice.

“Yo cuz, check these numbers,” Sonny ordered, his voice almost ringing with reverence. He was looking back and forth between the newspaper and the cash register.

"Lemme see." Usnavi pushed him over to the side. It almost sounded like he was implying that something was happening with the lottery, but that couldn’t be right. No money ever came to the barrio. Nobody cared about them. But as he checked and re-checked the numbers in the paper with his sales, his eyes widened. They matched.

“Yo, somebody won.”

“You sold a winning ticket?” Benny asked excitedly. The words seemed to solidify his findings, and he unwittingly broke into a large grin and nodded.

“How much? And don’t tell me no 500 dollars.”

Usnavi checked the newspaper again as if the number hadn’t already been burned into his eyelids. Sure enough, it matched. “96,000.”

“Damn.”  
“DOLLARS?”  
“That’s a lotta spray cans.” Graffiti Pete, Benny, and Sonny had all exclaimed their respective remarks simultaneously.

“Dude, you know what I could do with 96,000 dollars?” Benny asked excitedly. “I could go to a business school, pay the entrance fee like that. Dude, I’m gonna be richer than Nina’s daddy. You all might wanna stay friends with me– I’ll be so rich, imma be golfing and– yo– DONALD TRUMP’LL be my caddy!”

The bell jingled again and Vanessa walked in.

“Hey guys,” she said, dully in comparison to the energy in the store.

“Hey, Nessa,” was Usnavi’s reply. He inwardly winced at the nickname and the throbbing that had started on his eyebrow again, and spoke up quickly.

“Benny, you’re kidding, right? 96,000 ain’t even enough to RETIRE. And what’s with this business crap? All that money is basically nothing, after a shitstorm of taxes. Look. You wanna get money? You don’t need to win no lottery–” Vanessa gasped in realization of what they were talking about and opened her mouth to ask, but Usnavi continued on, “All you gotta do is make a list of goals and check ‘em off as you pursue ‘em. Hard work, paciencia y fe–”

“Yo, I could have more hoes that a phonebook in Tokyo!” Pete interrupted. Sonny laughed and Usnavi glared at him.

“Oh my GOD, shut up. We’re trying to have an intelligent conversation here,” Usnavi snapped. He noted the complete contrast between his and the stupid vandal’s goals and despised the dude even MORE, if possible. THIS, of all people, was who Sonny chose to hang out with?

“I can–” Pete protested, but Usnavi was already talking over him.

“Yeah, yeah, no. Shut up, go home, and pull your damn pants up.” Usnavi practically shoved him out of the bodega door. Sonny make a move to jump over the counter after him, but Usnavi stopped him with his best evil glare.

“C’mon, man, I gotta tell the barrio the news!” his younger cousin protested.

“So text ‘em. You ain’t leavin’ this store, though.”

Sonny immediately whipped out his phone and let his fingers fly, and Usnavi scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Benny raised his eyebrows. “Okay, _mister mature,_ if you won, what are YOU doing?”

Usnavi paused. “What am I doing? Well, here’s what I’m doing,” he muttered while thinking of an answer. In truth, he knew exactly what he’d do if that much money just fell on his lap. It just wasn’t something that was gonna happen.

“I’d need most of that money, first of all, to save my ass from financial ruin. And whatever’s left…” He looked at Vanessa and grinned. “I’d spend a few on you, ‘cause the only room with a view is a room with you in it.”

Vanessa laughed and shook her head, her long black sheet of hair quivering behind her. Not exactly the reaction he was hoping for, but, hey, progress. She’d agreed to a date and was at least not totally REJECTING his compliments. Baby steps, baby steps.

“Ok, I know what I’m doing. Sonny’ll get some, of course–” His younger cousin’s face lit up– “He needs to keep the coffee brewing–” His face fell again– “And with the rest, I’m goin’ back, figuring out my story. I’m taking Abuela with me to Puerto Plata, I’ll make the best of it! Sonny, you really love this business?”

“No–”

“Tough, Merry Christmas! Now you’re the youngest tycoon in Washington Heights!” Usnavi tossed him the newspaper, but he tossed it back immediately.

“Yo, with 96,000, I could finally fix this barrio’s problems. We could get better housing, computers _para la escuela,_ with internet and everything. The kids need to learn some more stuff, we need to change the system. We can break free from the corporations that own this joint. Why’s the rent goin’ up? Why’s the rich buying us out? We pay them when we should be demonstratin’. And what about all these immigration-hatin’, racist politicians? You know what I’m doing with that money? I’m getting protests. Tickets, everything, ‘till the city pays attention, because the ghetto has a million promises for me to keep!” Sometime during his rant, Sonny had jumped over the counter and was standing in the middle of the store. Vanessa smiled and walked up to him.

“You are so cute!” She exclaimed, kissing him affectionately on the cheek. He blushed and adjusted his cap before looking at his shoes. “I was just thinking off the top of my head…”

_Well, I mean, if ranting’s all it takes for her to kiss me, I woulda done that,_ Usnavi thought ruefully.

“I just texted Daniela y Carla, so the whole barrio’s talking about it by now,” Vanessa continued. “Daniela wants to get a new lease in Atlantic City. And a new weave,” she laughed again. “Carla said she’ll settle for bleach. They’re freaks.”

“What would YOU do?” Usnavi inquired her.

She gazed off then, looking at a spot on the ceiling. “If I won the lottery, you’d never see me again. I’d be downtown, getting a nice little studio, getting outta this barrio.”

Usnavi took a step back. “Alright, stay broke, then,” he said, only half-joking. Vanessa looked back at him and smiled, the faraway look in her eyes gone.

“I never win shit anyway,” she said, and everyone laughed.

Soon they were all ranting animatedly about their lottery plans. People came in periodically to validate the good news, adding their plans to the cacophonous roar that soon enveloped the corner.

“We’ll throw the biggest block party and everyone’s invited–”

“We’d be swimmin’ in dough–”

“We can pay off the debts we owe–”

“We could tell everyone we know–”

“No tip-toein’–”

“We’ll get the dough and–”

“And once we get goin’–”

“Man, We’d be non-STOP!” Benny finally exclaimed, and at the mention of the phrase, Usnavi’s right eyebrow just about exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next couple of weeks are gonna be a bit hairy so please bear with me :)))) If I skip a week, I promise it's not because I forgot. And I'll try to post two chapters the next week!
> 
> Chapter 5 Sneak Peek:  
> Usnavi was a little distracted that night.
> 
> Thank y'all for reading!!!


	5. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Club
> 
> *side note: y'all! The short film "In A Heartbeat" came out today and its adorable and if you have the chance you should watch it!!! It's on youtube!

Usnavi was a little distracted that night.

As he entered the club with Vanessa at his side (wearing a low-cut red dress that shimmered when she moved, which was distraction no. 1), his mind reeled with all the information he learned that day. First of all, there was the fact that Nina had dropped out of college– Usnavi decided it was high time for another pep talk– and THEN, Kevin had announced that he was selling the dispatch station to pay for his daughter’s tuition, even though she’d lost her scholarship (ironically because she refused her family’s financial help and took on two jobs instead). Among other things, that meant no more of Benny’s dispatch in the mornings, because he was out of a job.

Coupled with the fact that he’d caught another glimpse of the familiar man when he walked to Nina’s house for dinner that night (it was a brief glimpse, but he couldn’t help but stare before Abuela Claudia blocked him from his view), and he had just walked into a CLUB with VANESSA at his side (never mind the fact that she was immediately gone as soon as they got in, greeting and hugging practically everyone there), it was no wonder Usnavi was nervous. And when he was nervous (or even when he wasn’t nervous sometimes), he tended to ramble.

“Damn, this is nice. So, this is the hot club in Washington Heights? I really like these lights– I wonder what they did with them so they hung like that? It’s so pretty. Of course, you look even prettier. Have I mentioned that you look great tonight? Because you really do, you–”

“Usnavi, relax,” Vanessa turned around and smiled at him before being pulled off into more greetings.

“Pssh. Relax? Qué relax? You relax! I’m relaxed,” he replied, following her rather awkwardly through the crowd. “So you’ve been here before? I mean, it’s not like it’s an issue or anything, but I haven’t noticed. I’m always busy with the store, y cada día it’s a brand new chore. And my arms are kinda sore, you know, no time for the dance floor. But hey, this is nice too! I’m thinkin’ maybe I could afford to take a break once in awhile, because, oh, god, I’m such a DORK, so maybe you and me should hang out some more–”

“Let’s go get a drink,” Vanessa interjected when he paused for a breath.

“Okay, I’ll go. Whadda ya want? Something sweet? Like–”

“You know me, a little bit of cinnamon,” she winked, before disappearing into the crowd again.

He watched her go, bewildered before heading to the bar to get their drinks. As he approached, he saw a familiar figure slumped in a bar chair. “Hey, Benny.”

“Hm? Oh, hey, Usnavi. How’s your date going?”

“Well, I just rambled for like two minutes and then she sent me off to get drinks. So, yeah, it’s going splendid.”

“Yikes.” Benny motioned for him to sit and flagged down the bartender.

“Yeah. Hey, sorry about the dispatch.” Benny visibly bristled, but he shrugged as he handed Usnavi a small glass that smelled very strongly of tequila.

“Here’s to getting fired,” he said, raising an identical glass.

“To killing the mood.” Usnavi raised his own glass, too.

Together, they downed their drinks in one gulp. Usnavi winced as the fiery liquid slid down his throat, but it made the pain in his eyebrow start to fade.

“ _Salud,_ ” they intoned in unison, before Benny flagged the bartender down for another round. Usnavi cut in to order Vanessa’s cinnamony concoction. They drank away their miseries for a while until Vanessa appeared from the crowd, flushed and sweating. _At least my date’s having fun,_ Usnavi thought bitterly.

“Hey, guys,” she greeted, slightly out-of-breath, as Usnavi handed her her drink. She barely got a sip in before a man pushed his way out of the crowd to stand next to her. Usnavi stared him down warily. The club, he decided, was a horrible choice for a first date.

“Hey you,” the man said, tapping Vanessa’s bare shoulder.

“Who, me?” Vanessa replied.

“Yeah, you. You wanna dance?”

“Nah, man.” Vanessa looked at Usnavi apologetically.

“Alright, alright, I took my chance.”

Usnavi sighed. He _reeeeally_ didn’t want Vanessa to be dancing with complete strangers on their first date, but then again, her definition of fun was probably not sitting with a rambling maniac at a bar for hours.

“Nah, it’s cool, it’s cool,” he finally said.

“Really? You don’t mind?” Vanessa inquired, looking at him with raised eyebrows, her hand already poised over the counter to set her drink down.

“I’m fine,” Usnavi replied, more to himself than anything.

Vanessa smiled, set her drink down, and was gone, and once again, the thumping club music was all he could hear.

“Yo,” Benny spoke up.

“Yoooo.” There may or may not have been a lot of alcohol in his system at that point, and he barely registered that Benny was trying to talk to him.

“Who was that?” He nudged Usnavi’s shoulder and gestured, drink in hand, to the crowd, where Vanessa’s bright red dress twirled and gleamed under the flashing lights.

“I dunno. Some dude.” _Stupid Vanessa and her stupid beautiful face._

“Some DUDE?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude, she’s tryna make you jealous!”

Usnavi pondered that, and as much as he tried to repress it, a pang of jealousy hit. Vanessa– HIS date– was out there dancing with complete strangers, and he was sitting at the bar sulking. He stood up, unsure what he was going to do (he couldn’t dance for shit), and set his empty glass down.

“Jealous? I ain’t jealous! I can take all these fellas, whatever!”  
With that, he was pushing himself through the crowd, alcohol fueling his dance-like movements (which still couldn’t be considered dancing), Eventually, he decided on a plan. Vanessa was trying to make him jealous? Well, two could play at that game. He pulled another girl– coincidentally also wearing a red dress– over to the bar. Unfortunately, this was about the time his alcohol-induced courage ran out, and he started rambling again.

“Bartender! Let me get an Amaretto Sour for this ghetto flower, how are you so pretty? You complete me, you had me at hello, you know you need me, truly, madly, deeply, let’s get freaky!” He paused for a breath and realized that the girl had not talked since he’d pulled her out of the crowd and wondered if she was getting freaked out. Panicked, another round of words tumbled out of his mouth because he realized if he kept talking, she PROBABLY wouldn’t walk away, and Vanessa wouldn’t witness him get completely rejected.

“Oh, I get it, you’re the strong and silent type, well I’m the Caribbean island type, and I can drive you wild all night! But I digress, please, say something so I don’t stress?”

The girl grinned widely, looking vaguely confused. She looked familiar, not in the way Benny or the strange man did, but in an around-the-barrio way. He put a name to the face and realized that this was Yolanda, a semi-regular customer in the bodega, one that Vanessa, for some reason, seemed to hate. And there was one more important thing about her that he couldn’t quite remember–

“ _No hablo inglés!_ ”

“YES!”

Usnavi puller her by the hand back into the crowd. This was perfect: he wouldn’t have to talk to her, she wouldn’t understand, Vanessa already hated her, and if he tried to do anything more ambitious, she wouldn’t mind. She had a bit of a reputation around the barrio for being, well, _loose._ Soon, the thumping club music started to fuel his movements and he danced along with Yolanda. He had to hand it to her, she was a good dancer. He felt a special satisfaction as they twirled past Vanessa, who was dancing with a stranger, and saw definite anger rise in her eyes. He smiled and let her lead again, as she had been doing, until he realized she was gone.

Bewildered, he looked around and caught a glimpse of Vanessa’s smug smile as a man twirled both her and Yolanda, one on each arm. He tried to grab one of them back– either one, at this point, it didn’t matter– but without an experienced dancer at his side, he was pretty much hopeless. He watched in dismay as the man twirled two, three, four girls in rapid succession and spun back to Vanessa and another girl in a flowery pink dress, who he realized with a start was Nina Rosario. Both girls were smiling and laughing, Vanessa moreso at Usnavi standing there helplessly, and Nina more at the way the man ground up against her as she good-naturedly tried to shove him away.

Until Benny appeared suddenly.

With a roar, he pushed past Usnavi and four other people until he reached the man still bumping up against Nina, pulled his arm back, and socked him in the jaw with all the energy he could muster.

Needless to say, chaos ensued.

In a flash, both girls were gone and three, four, five other men swarmed Benny, his first victim still lying on the ground with his hand clutched to his jaw. Hands grabbed at Usnavi and he shoved them away, trying to get to Benny. The bear-like man seemed to be holding his own, though, throwing a couple more punches and taking one in the face himself, unflinching.

Eventually, Usnavi managed to get to Benny’s side and faced down a man barreling at them. He clenched his fist and braced himself for the contact, imagining the crunch of a nose under his fist. He wasn’t the strongest man, but the guy was coming at him quickly, if he just stuck his arm out–

The music stopped. The club went black. The only sound Usnavi could hear was the collective shouting of the crowd as the constant hum of electricity around died into silence.

“ _Oye, que pasó?_ ”

“Blackout! Blackout!”

The pain in Usnavi’s eyebrow beat like the thumping of a drum, pounding and insistent, each beat bringing a new thought.

_Blackout. Find Vanessa. Find Benny. Find Nina. Make sure that guy doesn’t find me. Don’t get killed. Get out of here. Get to the bodega. Find Sonny. Find Abuela. Get to her apartment. Make sure Abuela is alright._

So yeah, Usnavi was a little distracted that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! This is honestly so unedited and stuff but I think thats better than nothing??? Idk
> 
> Your comments and kudos literally make my entire day better, so thank you so much for leaving them!
> 
> Chapter 6 Sneak Peek:  
> As soon as the lights in the city flickered out, Pete was up and running.


	6. Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *my favorite song ever
> 
> The Blackout, starring pretty much everyone Usnavi forgot about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE CHAPTER WOOP WOOP
> 
> idk if i'll have any time at all on monday to post so here you go :))  
> Also tbh this was one of my favorite chapters to write so i couldnt wait very long to share it

As soon as the lights in the city flickered out, Pete was up and running. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was going, but he had shouldered his backpack and sprinted out of the back alley, where he had been sulking after leaving the club. The logical thing to do was to go to the dump. He knew the vandals; he couldn’t deny that he was one of them. They’d be looting every store safe under the cover of night and without fear of being caught. Nobody would think to loot the junkyard. He would be safe there.

_But that’s not where I’m going,_ he insisted as he turned the corner and sprinted in the opposite direction. Why, he didn’t exactly know, until he saw the vandals. They were wielding baseball bats and chunks of brick and even some knives, and his thought process finally voiced the only thought running through his brain.

_Sonny._

He had finally traced the path that his feet had been subconsciously pounding out as he sprinted down the street. He’d take a left there, and then another right, and follow the curve the road took until he’d caught sight of the bodega. And he knew for sure that Sonny would be there, in the store, desperately trying to fend off the vandals.

Why?

Because Sonny was nowhere near as logical as Pete was.  
Pete thought about Sonny as his feet continued along the dark sidewalks. He wondered how the kid fit so much fire into such a little body (Sonny was only about a year younger, but about six inches shorter than Pete himself).

Pete and Sonny had been inexplicably drawn to each other when they were little, and with each passing year their bond grew steadily stronger. After he dropped out of high school (freshman year, as soon as possible), Sonny was the only one who still hung out with him. He asked about his projects, even when the others scoffed and rolled their eyes at the mention of his spray paint. Coming from them, “Graffiti Pete” was an insult. But coming from Sonny, it was almost a term of endearment. After school, he would wait for the kid to get out of the middle-school building and they would go somewhere to paint or get food or just hang out.

Unfortunately, that was the year Usnavi had arrived, so Sonny spent more and more time in the bodega, usually heading there straight after school. For four continuous years, he loved that store more and more everyday, nearly matching the enthusiasm of his older cousin. Pete would visit him when he went back to sort the trash once in awhile, and soon it became a habit. Nearly every day, when they met in the back of the bodega, Sonny would sooner or later find himself ranting about politics or education or society, pacing back and forth while Pete lounged against the wall and chipped in his own opinions from time to time while he sketched in his notebook. The book was for planning out ideas for projects, but most of the pages were filled with pictures of Sonny. He loved the way his blue baseball cap bobbed when he walked or how he gestured emphatically about whatever he was protesting that day. He loved how _passionate_ Sonny was about everything. Even when their conversation was just fun and games, he was always smiling brightly and pacing or playing with his cap. Truthfully, Pete was happiest there, propped up against his backpack, listening to Sonny, and fleshing out his constantly moving form with a pencil and notebook. That was home to him, much more so than his tiny, run-down apartment that he barely scraped by for.

Pete’s thoughts returned to the present as he sideskirted a pile of broken glass on the sidewalk. A store’s windows had been knocked out, and he heard movement inside. The vandals were creeping closer and closer to the bodega, and to Sonny. The curvature of the street was finally bringing the store into view, and in the moonlight he could barely make out a small, familiar figure running from the opposite direction. Sonny must have been at home when the lights went out.

Pete reached the bodega at nearly the same time as Sonny came running up. He gasped for breath and grabbed the shorter kid by both shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.

“Pete?” He heard Sonny’s voice, but he was starting to see black spots from sprinting for so long.

“We gotta get out of here,” he finally managed as his breath slowly came back to him.

“Nah, man, I gotta guard the store,” Sonny argued, squirming out of Pete’s grip and starting toward the bodega grate. Pete grabbed him by the wrist.

“Sonny! They gonna bombard the store until you ain’t GOT a store no more!”

Sonny looked at him pleadingly. Pete dropped his wrist, but didn’t move.

“This is Usnavi’s store, man! I can’t just leave it! He’ll come, he’ll–”

They were interrupted by the distant smashing of glass. Far down the street, just before the road curved out of view, hooded figures climbed through a hole in the window, and splintered shards rained down from the ledge and glinted threateningly in the moonlight. Pete had seen enough. He roughly slung an arm around Sonny’s shoulders and ushered him in the other direction, but Sonny shook his head and squirmed out of his grip again.

“Sonny, _c’mon!_ ”

“I got a baseball bat on the rack in the back,” was his only reply, looking at Pete with desperate eyes again. Pete sighed. The logical thing to do was to shake his head and lead him away, pick him up and carry him if he had to. They could go back to the junkyard and wait out the night, where it would be safe. But Sonny wasn’t logical. He was all heart, and fire, and unshakeable courage. He was stubbornly, irreversibly, perfectly impulsive. And Pete knew that he was staying.

“I got a couple of roman candles, we can distract the vandals,” he finally conceded. If he couldn’t take him to safety, he could at least make sure that the kid didn’t get himself killed.

Sonny’s brilliant smile made his heart skip a beat as he took Pete’s hand and led him into the bodega. As loud as the logical part of his brain screamed that this was a bad idea, that smile almost made it seem like he was doing the right thing. If Sonny was happy, that was the only thing that mattered. And he would willingly swing a bat at anybody who thought otherwise.

“Shit, I see some thugs coming, we’re gonna get jacked up!” Sonny yelled as he went to go get his bat from the back. Pete ran out and set up his fireworks. “Get me a light, I’ll be right back!” he called through the door. He looked up and saw vandals sprinting down the street, headed straight for the bodega, and anger overtook his senses. Nobody would touch Sonny. He’d make sure of it.

As soon as Sonny re-emerged with a lighter, Pete grabbed it and lit the firework he was still holding. The vandals were drawing closer, and he looked at them with growing determination. “Back up! BACK UP!” he shouted, to Sonny, to the vandals, to nobody in particular. As the fuse of the firework grew dangerously short, he launched it as far as he could into the air and it exploded with a BANG.

As purple sparks flew through the air, the vandals ran off, but were almost immediately replaced with more and more waves. Still, with Sonny wielding his bat and Pete throwing fireworks from time to time, they were able to fend all of them off. Sonny alternated between swinging at incoming vandals and trying desperately to pull the bodega grate down (which seemed to be stuck). There was a pile of fireworks on the ground, aerials and sparklers and assorted poppers of various sizes. Pete almost felt untouchable, standing there with Sonny at his side, hurling crackling flames at incoming invaders and hearing Sonny’s victorious yells as they turned and ran in the opposite direction. They WERE untouchable, Sonny and him.

A little group of hooded figures came sprinting down the street, and Pete readied another firework as Sonny fought off people behind him, their backs knocking together. Pete lit the popper and launched it into the air, covering his ears as it exploded in a shower of white lights and let out a loud BANG. The vandals stopped, but only for a second to shout at each other, and Pete watched them reach into their hoodies and pull out metallic objects glinting ominously in the moonlight. He heard the unmistakable clicking sound several times over and almost dropped his lighter.

Guns.

“Shit, Sonny, we gotta go!” Pete yelled as he turned around. He didn’t know when, but somewhere along the line Sonny had gotten a black eye and a cut on his left cheek. For a moment, he looked confused, but then looked past Pete at the armed vandals and his eyes widened.

“Oh my god.”

“We gotta _go_!” Pete yelled again. “C’mon, we did good enough!” He made to grab Sonny’s arm but Sonny pulled it away, looking Pete straight in the eyes and grabbing him by his t-shirt. In the moonlight, they glinted with a fire he’d never seen before. But then again, he’d never been this close to his face.

“ _No,_ man. I gotta guard Usnavi’s store. You go, save yourself. I’ll fend them off.” With that, he pushed Pete away. He staggered back a couple of steps and stared at the kid as he stood facing the other way, bracing himself for a fight.

As brave and perfectly selfless as Sonny was, this crossed the line to irrational. Pete knew it was a lost cause guarding the store for someone who’d never show (Usnavi had a little more logic than Sonny did). But he also knew, with every fiber of his being, that he couldn’t leave Sonny. So there was only one logical thing to do.

Glancing back at the quickly-approaching vandals, he dropped to his knees, ignoring Sonny’s protests for him to run. Shuffling through the pile of fireworks, he found the longest fuse and quickly lit it. Then dropping the lighter, he stood up, and in one quick motion, scooped up Sonny in both arms and sprinted down the street in the other direction. He held the kid as tightly as he could, ignoring his kicking and protests. Finally, they reached a deserted back alley loaded with trash, and Pete set Sonny down on his feet as the first aerial exploded. 

BANG. Pete looked up as showers of green and red and purple lit up the night sky. Flecks of gold like new stars rained down until they were obscured by the dark shadows of the buildings.

With a start, he realized how close he was to Sonny. He was standing there, still half-holding him, their chests pressed together as Pete inhaled and exhaled deeply. He looked down and saw the fireworks reflected in Sonny’s eyes. They looked every bit a part of him as the were a part of the sky, the explosive, fiery, beautiful, colorful flashes of energy. His face, however, was contorted with fear and desperation and pain and guilt.

Pete wished for those things to go away. Everything he’d done that night was so illogically courageous, so heroic, that those were the last emotions that should be on his face. Pete had to make him happy again. He had to make him see how much he meant to the store. To the barrio. To him.

And maybe it was the kid rubbing off on him a little, but he decided to do the first thing that came to his mind.

Pete leaned down, took Sonny’s face in his hands, let his eyelids shut out the colorful lights in his eyes, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> Chapter 7 Sneak Peek:  
> "Sonny. Move one more time and I'll poke your fuckin' eye out."


	7. Pete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So turns out I DID have time to post this woops :) but school starts tomorrow pls send help
> 
> Carnaval Del Barrio, starring these hopeless barrio boys.

“Sonny. Move one more time and I’ll poke your fuckin’ eye out.”

Sonny was sitting in a chair while Pete stood over him, q-tip in hand, the other hand cupped around Sonny’s cheek as he tried to clean the cut just below his eye.

He dabbed an orange solution on the cut with the q-tip and Sonny winced again, though this time he didn’t move as much.

“Jesus, that stings.”

“I KNOW, dammit, but I gotta put this on. So sit STILL, ok?” Pete glared at him, but felt his cheeks redden as Sonny stared back. The bodega fell into an uncomfortable silence. He became very conscious of his hand on Sonny’s cheek and looked at the ground instead.

Shards of glass were littered at his feet and everywhere on the bodega floor. The aerials had exploded so close to the store that they shattered the windows, sending glass flying into the shop. The only positive about it was that the vandals had assumed the store had already been raided and moved on. That morning, Pete and Sonny had returned from the alley at sunrise to find glass everywhere and a very forlorn Usnavi moping around about the damage, but fortunately nothing had been taken. Well, except for the cash register. And the alcohol solution Pete was currently using, but that didn’t count.

The weird thing was that Usnavi didn’t even seem to care. He tossed some stuff around and sighed heavily a few times. He didn’t even notice Sonny’s face. Sonny had chalked it up to “female troubles,” whatever that meant. And then soon after, he was gone.

Pete refocused and tried to apply the solution to Sonny’s cut again, but paused to stifle a huge yawn. Sony looked up at him, his eyebrows raised. A deep purple colored his other eye, making for quite a funny expression.

“Maybe you should get some sleep. Go home. Usnavi’ll be back soon, he can clean me up.”

“Nah, I’m good, I just–”

“PETE. I don’t want a sleep-deprived man performing this operation.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Sonny. I’m cleaning your cut, not doin’ brain surgery. I‘m FINE.”

“Well, sure, YOU’RE fine, but–”

“SONNY. If I can’t make you leave this store, then you can’t make me leave.”

“You _did_ make me leave,” Sonny muttered, and the awkward silence settled upon them again as they remembered the events of the night prior.

After Pete had kissed Sonny, all the fight seemed to drain out of the boy. Or maybe he was just too shocked to move. Either way, Pete convinced him to get some sleep, using a convenient old mattress and their jackets as a bed while Pete kept watch over the alley. Thankfully, nobody tried to enter, but Pete had stayed up the whole night anyway, alternately staring between the alley entrance and Sonny. He tried very hard not to think about what he’d done, figuring they could talk about it in the morning.

So far, they hadn’t.

Pete raised his q-tip for the third time, and this time, Sonny didn’t move as he carefully dabbed the cut, and turned to grab a bandage from the first-aid kit (ALSO an item that wasn’t _technically_ taken from the bodega). Carefully, he placed the bandage over Sonny’s left cheek, rubbing it down with his thumb.

He realized suddenly that Sonny was looking at him again. He looked up to meet his eyes, and felt his pulse quicken at the stare.

“Uh. Sonny?”

“Yeah?”

There was a pause as Pete tried to think of what to say.

“Last night–”

They were interrupted by a very loud swearing coming from the street. Pete stood up, removing his hands from Sonny’s face (how had BOTH his hands gotten there?), and Sonny followed suit. Daniela from the salon was shuffling through the broken glass in her TAWs (Sonny’s term for the thick-ass wedges all the women in the barrio invariably possessed somewhere in their wardrobe). At every storefront there were people sweeping up the glass, or checking their doors for damage, or attempting to open their grates.

“Daniela?” Sonny called.

“Ay, Sonny, what happened to you?” She called back, squinting at his face as she came closer.

Sonny pointed in turn at his eye and his cheek as he explained. “This one was a fist, and a knife.”

“What the FUCK?” Daniela and Pete exclaimed in unison, and Pete’s blood ran cold.

“You fought someone holdin’ a– Why didn’t you tell me it was a KNIFE?” he demanded, gesturing to the cut. Sonny looked back at him, a little guiltily.

“It wasn’t important–”

“ _Sonny!_ ”

“OKAY, okay, sorry! You were just so worried about me, I didn’t want to–”

“Of course I was worried about you! You go and do stupid shit like FIGHTING PEOPLE WHO HAVE KNIVES!” Pete grabbed Sonny’s face again and ran his thumb over the bandage, but then quickly put it down when he realized that Daniela was still staring at them. He turned to face her. She was standing with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised, her trademark “I got some dirt on you” lips pursed with full force.

“You were with _him_ last night?” she asked.

Pete answered quickly. “Yes, but not like THAT– Sonny, the stupid kid– decided to FIGHT PEOPLE OFF like an idiot instead of just staying at home. So I had to come and save his ass.”

Daniela smiled, but didn’t drop her stance.

“He did NOT _save my ass,_ he–” Sonny protested, but Pete interrupted him.

“Oh yeah, I totally did TOO save your ass.”

“No, you PICKED IT UP–”

“Okay, look!” Daniela interrupted their bickering, dropping her hands from her hips and continuing steadily toward them. “I don’t care who did what with _whose_ ass–” Pete felt his face flush, and Sonny opened his mouth to protest– “But I don’t feel like dealing with broken glass today. So if you don’t feel like the whole barrio knowing about your _caso pequeño–_ ”

“WHAT ‘ _caso pequeño?_ ’” Sonny interjected, but Daniela kept going.

“–I suggest you get a broom and start sweeping.”

Pete gave Daniela his best glare, but it was impossible to contend with her bitch-face. Finally, he sighed.

“C’mon, Sonny.”

For the next couple of hours, they swept and cleaned the sidewalks, and then the salon, and then the bodega. They sorted through food that had been punctured by glass shards and tossed them all in a pile. Pete vaguely wondered where Usnavi was, and why he wasn’t helping them clean _his own store._

The more he thought about it, the more resentful he felt toward Sonny’s older cousin. Everything came easy to him. The minute he came into the barrio, he had an apartment, he had the bodega, and he had Abuela Claudia at his constant beck and call. And besides that, he was so effortlessly _likeable._ Nobody scoffed at his passionate outbreaks. Nobody ever said that _his_ store, _his_ life’s work was worthless; nobody painted over it, making it disappear back into the colorless alley walls. And he had Sonny’s unconditional admiration. Even though he didn’t DO anything, even though he wasn’t the one spending HOURS listening to him and laughing with him and enjoying his company, even though HE wasn’t there last night, protecting Sonny, risking his LIFE, Sonny loved him.

Pete swept the last of the glass rather aggressively into the dustpan and tossed the broom against the bodega wall more carelessly than he should’ve. Sonny stopped sorting through the food and looked back at him concernedly.

“Whatsa matter?”

“Just tired. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s HOT.” At least that much was true. Pete wiped at a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, but it was quickly replaced by another. Sonny was still looking at him, but averted his eyes when Pete returned his stare.

“Let’s take a break then,” he finally said, standing up and heading outside. Pete followed him out, and apparently a couple others had the same idea, because there were people lounging on the street, stretching out in attempt to catch a faint breeze off the Hudson.

“Why the hell are we stopping?” Daniela asked, poking her head out from the salon.

“Because it’s fucking HOT, that’s why,” Sonny replied. “It’s too hot to do _anything._ ”

Pete agreed, and murmurs of assent drifted through the street.

“Sonny’s right.”

“Pete, could you play some music on that radio?”

“Nah. I got no batteries.”

“Fuck.”

“And besides, the power’s still out. We’ve got nothing to do, anyway.”

“All the businesses are closed, and they’re not gonna be back until the power comes back on.”

“And what if it never does? Then it’s gonna look the same tomorrow, anyway. And the day after, and the day after.”

“Actually, Con Edison said the power should be back up in 24 hours.”

“That’s still a long time.”

“Maybe if we just–”

“HEY!” Daniela yelled from the middle of the street, making everyone jump. Nobody had even seen her move. Even Carla poked her head out of the salon door to see what the commotion was.

“What is this _tonteria_ that I’m seeing on the street? I never thought I’d live to see the day…” She muttered, a little softer, before addressing the street again. “Since when are latin people scared of HEAT?”

She took a long breath and Pete shook his head. The look on her face indicated that they were in for one of her long, _loooong_ speeches.

“When I was a little girl growing up in the hills of Vega Alta, there were a lot of good days, but my favorite time of year was Christmastime.” Nobody spoke up, and Daniela frowned, looking back at Carla.

“Ask me why.”

“Why?”

“Well, it was hot as the devil’s ass, but oh, the coquito would _flow,_ and we sang the Aguinaldo all night. It was _Carnaval_ time for the whole city.” She gestured to the street. “The businesses are closed, and we are about to go–”

Pete had almost forgotten that Daniela was moving. The Salon unisex was going to the Bronx, where the rent was lower and the hair was longer. 

“Let’s have a carnaval… del BARRIO!” 

“WEPAAAAA!” chimed in the piraguero, and everyone groaned, but Daniela smiled as she started to chant. 

“Carnaval del Barrio.. Carnaval del Barrio…” As she chanted and slowly swung her hips, people slowly joined in. Somebody began to bang out a slow beat on the piraguero cart. Some began stomping, echoing the thumping pulse. Some echoed the chant instead. 

“Carnaval… Barrio…” 

Pete felt Sonny look at him incredulously and returned his glance, grinning and shrugging his shoulders. He started to chant along. Sonny smiled and shook his head, but began stomping his foot to the beat. 

Soon, the pace got quicker, the chant turned into a melody, and the neighborhood was filled with people dancing on the streets. Pete grinned and took Sonny’s hands, twirling him in time to the song. Sonny laughed, a bright, candid sort of sound that Pete adored. In that moment, the previous night seemed years in the past. 

The music continued, some radio playing from one of the apartment windows, as people danced and spun and stomped their feet and sang along. Carla joined in on the singing after a while, bumping hips with Daniela as strangers twirled past them. At one point, Vanessa came up to protest their ridiculousness, Daniela teased her about Usnavi (“ah, Vanessa, don’t pretend that Usnavi’s your friend, we all know that he looooooove you”), and she stuck around, still pretending to be mad while a smile tugged at her lips and strangers spun her around the street. Pete was still dancing with Sonny happily until another voice cut through the music. 

“Here comes Usnavi!” 

The smile dropped from his face as Usnavi appeared from Abuela Claudia’s apartment doorway and stood on the steps, grinning from ear to ear, bouncing on his toes, practically _vibrating_ with energy. Pete dropped Sonny’s hands to turn and face him, like everyone else had done. It was odd how easily he could draw attention, like they were all moths and he was a lamp at night. 

“YO! HEY! Everyone gather round, listen, I got an announcement– WOW– it involves large amounts of money, it’s somewHERE IN THE RANGE OF 96,000 DOLLARS!” 

Pete heard Sonny gasp, but didn’t avert his eyes from Usnavi, feeling his own heartbeat quicken as well. Usnavi looked down at the gasp, though, and caught Sonny’s eye. 

“ _Atención,_ everyone, I’m closin’ up shop! Sonny, do me a favor, run to the bodega and grab everyone a soda pop– that’s right! Grab a bottle, kiss it, hold it up to god– ABUELA CLAUDIA JUST WON THE LOTTO!” 

Sonny grabbed onto Pete’s arm as the whisper rippled through the crowd, a slow crescendo of incredulous voices. 

“The lottery?” 

“Abuela Claudia won the lotto?” 

“ABUELA CLAUDIA WON THE LOTTO, AND WE’RE BOOKIN’ A FLIGHT FOR THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC TOMORROW!” Usnavi yelled, and Pete’s blood ran cold as Sonny dropped his arm. Around them, people erupted into shouts in celebration. They pulled flags from god knows where and began waving them around, succumbing once again to the beat of the music. Still, Sonny and Pete stood frozen in the middle of it all. 

_“Alza la bandera, la bandera dominicana–”_

_“La bandera puertorriqueña–”_

_“La bandera mexicana–”_

_“La bandera cubana–”_

Pete looked down at Sonny, who was still staring at Usnavi. His face looked… broken. His eyes were shattered, and his mouth was slightly open. It was very disconcerting. He’d seen Sonny scared before, and in pain, but never like this. He grabbed his hand again and pulled him to the side of the celebrations. 

“You okay?” Pete asked, trying to keep his voice down. Sonny still had a broken look in his eyes as he met Pete’s gaze. He didn’t even answer. Instead, he pushed back out into the crowd, heading for Usnavi. As he disappeared, all Pete could do was stare after him and wonder if his own face could ever look that torn. No, because it wasn’t sadness that Pete felt. It was anger. 

So, Usnavi was just going to LEAVE Sonny? After everything– after four years of Sonny growing on him, looking up to him, _adoring him–_ he was just going to LEAVE without a second thought? AND he was going to take Abuela Claudia with him? She, who had been the heart and soul of the barrio before Usnavi even _came_ – SHE– he realized, –WHO USNAVI HAD USED FOR PROTECTION WHILE SONNY RISKED HIS LIFE GUARDING _HIS_ BODEGA? Usnavi somehow managed to rip TWO hearts out at the exact same time. And the worst part? Everyone still celebrated him like he was some sort of hero. 

And now. _Fuck._ Even AS his heart was being ripped out, Sonny still went to him for comfort. Pete wanted to punch him in the face. 

But before he got there, Daniela cut in front of him, following Benny and poking him in the shoulder. “Hey, Mr. Benny, have you seen any horses today?” she asked, smirking. Benny took the bait. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I heard you and Nina went for a roll in the hay!” 

“HEY!” 

Some of the people took on a different chant then, one about Benny and Nina and K-I-S-S-I-N-G. Sonny was swept away in a tide of twirling people, and Pete did his best to follow him. Finally, Sonny managed to break free and create a small space for himself, and Pete elbowed his way into it. He noticed, just for a second, the broken look in his eyes before it became clouded, and Pete realized that Sonny was trying his best to hide his sadness. He always did, in front of people. 

“Hold up, wait a minute, why is everyone celebrating? Usnavi’s leaving us for the Dominican Republic? And Benny went and stole the girl that I’m in love with? She was my babysitter FIRST!” 

“Woo!” Pete laughed, playing along. Sonny always flirted with Nina, of course, but it was all for fun. It was something he did when he needed to get his mind off serious things. Like his cousin abandoning him in Washington Heights, say. 

“But seriously, is this what we want? Close the bodega, and the neighborhood is gone! AND they’re selling the dispatch, AND they’re closing the salon, and everyone’s dancing and singing and CELEBRATING but meanwhile this entire place is disintegrating and we are POWERLESS–” 

All of a sudden, Usnavi was in their little circle too, throwing an arm around Sonny’s shoulder. “So we’re powerless, light up a candle! Sonny, there’s nothing going on here that we can’t handle." 

Sonny squirmed out of his half-embrace to look him dead-on. “No, you don’t understand, I’m not tryin’ to be funny!” 

“Neither am I,” Usnavi replied, all the breeziness from his tone gone. He put a hand on Sonny’s shoulder and looked right back into his gaze. Though he was still smiling softly, an air of seriousness had indeed took over his posture as he continued. 

“We’re gonna give a third of the money to _you,_ Sonny.” 

Sonny stared, the brokenness in his eyes gone. 

“What?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“For REAL?” 

“Yes!” 

Usnavi continued talking then, but Pete wasn’t listening. Sonny was still looking at Usnavi. The shattered look had been replaced with awe, and surprise, and a goofy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. And as much as Pete loved that look, he felt his own smile falter. 

Of course Usnavi hadn’t just abandoned his cousin. He wasn’t heartless. And of COURSE he hadn’t abandoned the bodega that night– why protect it, anyway, when he was just gonna sell it after? He was ashamed of the anger he felt earlier. Usnavi was, after all, the best thing that could’ve happened to Sonny. Pete felt bad for blaming him. He couldn’t hate the best thing that had ever happened to his best friend. 

Still, Pete felt his heart drop as one word Sonny had used earlier echoed in his head– _Powerless._

Despite all Pete’s efforts, all their hours of talking, all their 3 A.M. adventures in painting, all his efforts to protect him when his cousin wasn’t around, Usnavi was _still_ the best person for him. The way Sonny looked at his older cousin, with all his admiration, could not be lost on anyone, let alone an observant eye like Pete’s. And Pete knew exactly what Sonny was going to do with his third of the money. Sonny loved his cousin. He would follow him to the ends of the Earth. 

Which meant Sonny was leaving, too. 

And Pete was powerless to stop him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor kid(s).
> 
> Chapter 8 Sneak Peek:  
> When the lights flickered out and the hum of the power lines outside died, Abuela ought to have lit a candle or something.


	8. Abuela Claudia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Angelica voice* Rewind... rewind... rewind.... powerlLEEEess...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda digging this Friday/Monday thing. That is, of course, until I'm loaded up the butt with homework. But until then, here you go!

When the lights flickered out and the hum of the power lines outside died, Abuela ought to have lit a candle or something. Insead, she sat still in the darkness, still staring at the TV as the telenovela she had been watching faded from her eyelids.

_That’s odd,_ she thought.

Her team was supposed to cut the power in the MORNING, to avoid a neighborhood-wide panic. She’d been VERY clear about that. After all, she was taking Usnavi away from them, she didn’t want to cause them any more harm than that.

But, of course, she had to continue on with the plan. Sighing, she grabbed a large bag covered in flowery print that had been dropped off at her apartment that morning, and ambled down the stairs and out the door. This was another reason why she’d wanted to do this in the morning– even though she was a federal agent, she was still old, and she was still carrying a bag full of money in a dark street. She hoped that everyone knew her well enough that they’d leave her alone.

As she stepped out into the night, she was startled by a loud BANG coming from above, and looked up.

“ _Alabanza,_ ” she breathed.

The fireworks exploded in furies of sparkling color, but they were not what caught her eye. Hundreds of thousands of glittering stars twinkled like holes pierced through dark, endless fabric. They were large and small, bright and brighter, and they were splashed across the sky in dense clusters and constellations, starkly contrasting with the inky blackness.

She hadn’t seen stars in a long, long time. Ever since she’d arrived in New York, the streetlights made it too hard to see them. Even on the occasional blackout, she’d been forced to stay indoors, comforting a young Sonny or Usnavi or reviewing her casework by candlelight.

No, the last time she’d seen stars like this was that last night in Cuba, looking up from the plaza. She’d looked up, gazing in awe at the millions of constellations, growing dizzy from the immensity of sky, before her mother called her inside. That was before she was told they were leaving for Nueva York the next day. Before she arrived, freezing in early December 1943, greeted by Mayor LaGuardia. Before her and her mother had gotten jobs as maids, not knowing it’d be the job her mother worked until the day she died. And ever since then, there had been no time to see the stars. She was recruited for the feds by one of her clients– all the badges and medals she’d polished with pride must’ve caught his eye or something- and right after her agent training was finished, she had been stationed at Washington Heights with her very first social case.

Now, nearly forty years later, looking back at the stars still reminded her of home. She realized, with a start, that if she went away with Usnavi (which was part of the plan; who else would give him his blue pills every day?), she would see the stars every night. For the first time in a long, long time, she could be home again. Another firework lit up the sky, making the stars sparkle even more brightly, if possible. And then, suddenly, Usnavi was at her side, clutching her arm and gasping for breath.

“Abuela, are you alright? Why are you standing out in the dark? And what’s that?” he asked, gesturing to the bag.

“The stars are out tonight,” Abuela replied, smiling at him, and looking back up at the sky. She felt Usnavi’s hand on her arm again.

“You’re not alone tonight,” she heard him say, and looked down at him. She saw, faintly, the stars reflected in his eyes. She thought of her mother and her hundreds of stories about the stars and the people they loved watching down from them.

“I’m not alone tonight,” she repeated, smiling. Perhaps their leaving wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

“Usnavi, please promise me you’ll guard this with your life,” she said, handing him the bag.

“What is it? Can I open it?”

Abuela started to nod her head, but thought better of it. “Come, let’s go inside. You can open it there.” She led him back into the building, but not without taking one last look up at the stars.

~~~

“Abuela… I’ve never seen…” Usnavi was sitting wide-eyed on his spot on her couch, looking down at the opened duffel bag.

“...This much money in my life!” Abuela finished the sentence with him, and laughed at his wide-eyed grin.

“Who are we holding it for? What is it?” he asked, and Abuela shook her head and chuckled softly.

“Usnavi… It’s ours.”

He looked at her, his grin gone. “What?”

“That’s right. All 96,000 of it.” That part wasn’t true. There was only about $4,000 in 20-dollar bills in there, but really, the bag was just for show. And the plan’s REAL budget was closer to half a million dollars. But the lottery ticket read 96,000, so that’s what Usnavi needed to know.

“No… y-you didn’t…” he stuttered, looking from the bag to her and back again, his eyes widening even more, if possible, as he finally connected the dots.

“Yes, I did!” She sang, getting up from her spot next to Usnavi and grabbing both of his arms. Then, hoisting him up, she spun him around the room. It didn’t take long for him to start laughing and looking at her with an incredulous grin. They stopped spinning after they almost knocked over a candle on the coffee table.

“You won the lottery?”

“ _Sí, mijo._ ”

“ _No me diga._ ”

“It’s true.”

He grinned even wider now, his eyes sparkling like stars themselves in the flickering candlelight. Abuela tried to imitate that grin. She probably looked ridiculous. Usnavi laughed again.

“ _Dios mio. _”__

__“Exactly.”_ _

__“So what happens now?”_ _

__Abuela paused. That was a very crucial conversation in order for her plan to work. It would be easier had in the morning, when she wasn’t as tired. “Now, we keep it safe for the night, and if it’s still there in the morning, THEN we can think about it.”_ _

__Usnavi nodded, seemingly understanding. After all, it wasn’t often that that much money came into the barrio, much less all at once. And Usnavi looked back at the bag every other minute, as if at any moment it would disappear._ _

__Neither of them got much sleep that night. They took turns lying on the couch, arms curled protectively around the bag. When they weren’t lying down, they were pacing around the room and, in Abuela’s case, humming softly._ _

__Every once in awhile, Usnavi would speak up, but Abuela would shush him._ _

__“What if we–”_ _

__“Shhh, Usnavi. It won’t be long now. Paciencia y fe.”_ _

__Eventually, in the wee hours of the morning, he dozed off. Quiet snores filled the apartment, and Abuela stopped her pacing to watch him. He still had his arms curled protectively around the money, as if someone was going to burst in to try and take it from him._ _

__She wondered if he was going to enjoy leaving. He talked about it sometimes, when his headaches got really bad, about wanting to go back to where his parents were from (Puerto Plata, in the Dominican Republic). He wanted to, as he said, “go back to his roots, and see if it would spark a memory.” Of course, then he’d been only talking about a temporary vacation, and not an actual uprooting of his entire life. And in reality, the memory-sparking would only happen if he stopped taking his pills, because Puerto Plata was just the homeland of the couple that was in the room next to his while he was in the hospital. Still, the faraway look in his eyes was not lost on her._ _

__She settled down on the armchair opposite him. She wondered what he’d do with the bodega– certainly not sell it. He would probably give it to Sonny. She had hoped Sonny would be okay when they were gone. He seemed to manage just fine on his own before Usnavi arrived, and if anything, Pete would take care of him. But hopefully it wouldn’t get THAT far._ _

__She would miss the barrio, for sure. She would miss walking down the streets, smiling at everyone that passed. She would miss watching from her window as the kids played outside, screaming and singing and skipping down the street. She would miss Mr. Rosario and Benny’s voices crackling through the radio from the dispatch station. She would miss the sudden encounters with vibrant splashes of color on the walls, courtesy of Graffiti Pete. She would miss Daniela and Carla at the salon, gossiping about everything under the sun as Vanessa shook her head and swept all the hair off the floor. But as much as she would miss the barrio, she looked forward to their departure. Every day, they could lay on the shore, sipping drinks and relaxing in the Caribbean breeze. Usnavi could forget their café con leche recipe and learn how to make cocktails instead. They could make a new bodega there and every face that came in would be another part of their family._ _

__And every night, Abuela could look up and see the stars. Her mother would look down at her, along with everyone she’d loved and lost over the course of her stay in the Heights, twinkling and glittering like deities of their own. And Abuela could look down and Usnavi would be there, safe and happy, curled up sleeping just like he was now._ _

__Maybe she could even make him believe the island was home._ _

__With thoughts of drinks and stars and stories, Abuela Claudia drifted off to sleep._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I edited this chapter on my phone and it kept autocorrecting Claudia to Chlamydia
> 
> Chapter 9 Sneak Peek:  
> Abuela was woken suddenly by a familiar voice yelling a very loud swear word from the street.


	9. Abuela Claudia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hundreds of Stories plus some Carnaval from Abuela Claudia's perspective.
> 
> If I could choose a point in part 1 where things start to, as they say, 'get real,' it'd be here.

Abuela was woken suddenly by a familiar voice yelling a very loud swear word from the street. Usnavi jumped awake at the same time too, pushing himself up abruptly.

“What was that?”

“It sounded like Daniela.”

He got up from the couch, and after stretching briefly, ambled over to the window.

He gasped. “The bodega!”

Before Abuela could respond, Usnavi had rushed past her and to the door, pausing briefly to grab his hat from the couch.

“I’ll be right back, Abuela, I gotta check on the bodega.”

“Okay. Breakfast’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” He nodded and was gone.

Abuela rose from her chair and headed to the kitchen, but not before taking a look out the window. Glass and trash littered the streets; though it looked pretty bad, she’d definitely seen worse. Now all there was left to do was start to rebuild. Hopefully Usnavi would be back soon.

In silence, she prepared their food and put some water on to boil. It wasn’t until two sets of plates and silverware were set on the table that Usnavi finally traipsed through the door, looking rather troubled before collapsing on the chair opposite Abuela and receiving his food gratefully.

“Usnavi, are you alright?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, occupied with shoveling bites of food into his mouth and washing it down with a swig of coffee. Finally, after swallowing and furrowing his brows in thought for a moment, he spoke.

“Can I see it again?”

She smiled and hoisted the flowery duffel bag onto the table. “We kept it safe,” she sang, opening the bag to reveal the money, just like how she left it. He gasped softly, the sun erupting in his eyes again.

“We did! So what happens today?” he asked. Abuela Claudia took a deep breath and steeled herself, shaking off the mental fog of happiness. Her director’s voice echoed in her head in his somber tone.

_Your talk to him is the most crucial part of the operation._

“Well, a third for you,” she started.

“Uh-huh,” Usnavi nodded enthusiastically.

“A third for me–”

“No pare, sigue, sigue!”

Despite herself, Abuela chuckled at how fast he was bobbing his head up and down.

“The rest for Sonny,” she continued. “And with our share of the money…”

An artificial smile, a gesture off into the distance.

“Dream of the seaside air. Me beside you, lying on the beach. Think of all the stories, the hundreds of stories we would share, you and I.”

To her immense surprise, Usnavi was still smiling and nodding madly. Then he spoke. “You know what? A vacation is _just_ what we need.”

_Oops._

“No, Usnavi,” she corrected, erasing her artificial smile and looking him directly in the eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“You always talked about finding your island. Well, we’ll go find your island.”

His smile was gone now, and his eyes were widened in disbelief. “You’d _do_ that for me?”

“Of course, Usnavi.” Abuela smiled again, a real one this time. Usnavi was taking the news better than she’d hoped. Or maybe it was just taking him a little longer for him to comprehend it. Either way, she continued quickly, taking advantage of his enthusiasm.

“Now you can sell your store, or give it to Sonny. Open a bar by the shore. I told you hundreds of stories about home and your past and the people you met, now you can go and make your own.” Abuela reached across the table and took his hand in her own. “Usnavi, you can finally be home–”

“Yo!” he interrupted suddenly, jumping up. “I know just where to go! There’s a little beach called _Playa Rincón_ just a stone’s throw from home– well, my folks’s home…” His eyebrows scrunched up as if he were trying to remember. “You need a motorbike or a rowboat to reach this little beach, a little private island, almost. I think, I remember my parents whispering about it. I listened closely when they did…”

She was surprised he remembered such a little detail from a mumbled conversation years ago. _Although,_ she thought, _if that’s all I had of my parents, I guess I’d hold on to it pretty tightly, too._

“That was before they got sick, and passed away that December. GOD, Abuela, all I have are these little things from them, like dying embers from a dream I can’t remember! Do you know what it’s like to be RIGHT THERE on the verge of something, but you can’t– Abuela, I don’t know how I can keep it together!”

Usnavi buried his face in his hands and Abuela rose from her chair to envelop him in a hug. She stroked his head softly, her fingers brushing over the scar on his scalp as if trying to make his hurt go away. If only Usnavi was just... _Usnavi_. Granted, if that happened she wouldn’t have a job, but still. Nobody deserved the pain he went through every day.

“Do you remember the story of your name?” She whispered into his hair. He looked back up at her, a little confused.

“It was engraved on a passing ship the day your parents came. They said, ‘Usnavi! That’s what we’ll name the baby!’”

He laughed, suddenly recalling the story that Abuela had told him long ago.

“It really said U.S. Navy, but hey, I worked with what they gave me, okay?”

Smiling and nodding, Abuela grabbed his cap from the table and put it back on his head, covering up his scar once again. “They’d be so proud of you today,” she reassured him. At least that was true. No matter what his real parents were like, the HAD to have been proud of everything he’d done for the barrio.

Usnavi rubbed the spot above his eyebrow again but smiled nonetheless as he continued.

“And by the end of July, out where the sea meets the sky, everything will make sense–”

_Technically_ that wasn’t true, but it’s what he wanted to hear, so that would be enough for now. “Uh-huh,” she said, smiling even wider and he gazed at her like she was that faraway seashore.

“I’ll find my island, I’ll open my bar–”

“No pare, sigue, sigue!” Abuela cheered, earning a chuckle from Usnavi as he continued.

“We’ll tell hundreds of stories about Washington Heights, about Puerto Plata, about my past– but Abuela, whatever we do, it’s you and I, right?”

She nodded, and this time her grin was not at all fake. She had him. They were really going home. He was going to be okay.

“You and I,” she repeated.

~~~

After Abuela had gone into more detail about their plan (she was booking a flight tomorrow for the Dominican Republic, and if all went well, they would be leaving by the beginning of next week), Usnavi decided how he was going to leave (he was selling the bodega so Sonny could finish his studies and HOPEFULLY use his money to go to a college). He was a jumping bundle of excitement. She laughed as he ran out the door, and she could hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs as he ran to tell the barrio the news (for some reason, there seemed to be some sort of celebration going on outside). He hadn’t even finished his breakfast, his plate left mostly untouched on the kitchen table. Abuela rose from her chair to collect the plates, scrape the leftover food into the trash can, and put them in the sink. _I’ll do them later,_ she thought, plopping herself down on the couch contentedly.

The phone rang suddenly and Abuela picked herself up again and half-walked, half-skipped to the counter where the clunky old landline was sitting. She picked up the receiver and put it to her ear, bracing herself for screams of joy at the news that she had won the lottery. Who could Usnavi have told that quickly? It must’ve been one of the people next door, or downstairs in the lobby.

Abruptly, Abuela froze. The phone was still ringing.

With carefully controlled movements, she put the receiver back on the console. The phone still rang. Lifting it up, she felt for the latch that unlocked the compartment inside. It opened with a click and her sleek black work phone bounced onto the counter, buzzing and ringing even more sharply out of the confines of its box.

It was the agency calling, and usually they didn’t call to congratulate her on a job well done. She tried to convince herself that she’d done nothing wrong. She hadn’t told him anything he wasn’t supposed to know, right? Was it the fact that she said he’d get his memories back? _Well, that could be sorted out rather quickly,_ she thought as she pressed the glowing screen to answer.

“Agent Claudia,” the voice on the other end was tight, insistent, and far, far too soft.

“Reynolds?” She recognized it immediately. Agent Maria Reynolds was a member of her team that was currently in the Heights. Abuela Claudia liked Maria. She was recruited out of a domestic abuse treatment center and worked as a special agent for a while before Abuela brought her on to the Heights project. She could seduce herself out of nearly any situation (and that had come in handy a couple times in the past) but the main reason Abuela chose her was because she was incredibly strong. She had been the victim of a giant political scandal and couldn’t even show her face in public for a long while. To make matters worse, her husband had been an abusive, alcoholic mess who had actually threatened to kill her before she managed to escape and seek treatment. Not a lot of things fazed her, probably because she’d seen it all before. So Abuela was naturally disturbed by the stress in her voice.

“I’m sure you’re aware that the power was cut last night–”

“Yes, but I worked with it anyway. I got Usnavi to–”

“It wasn’t us.”

“...What?”

“There was an inside agent. He must’ve heard about the Code 1A and recognized the face from the files. He came here with us, we didn’t even notice. He must’ve cut the power last night. Probably has your place bugged now.”

Abuela paused for a moment, letting the horror sink in a little. At first, the thought was preposterous. She hadn’t left her apartment since the blackout– but then she realized that she HAD, in order to find Usnavi on the dark streets. The inside agent had plenty of time to bug her place while she was outside staring at the stars. And now that he had access to her rooms, and to Usnavi, AND, she realized, to their entire escape plan…

“Maria, is your team okay?”

The silence on the other end was much, much too long. Abuela couldn’t make herself think that Reynolds and the rest of the team could be in danger, but the facts were undeniable. He didn’t need their assistance or cover anymore. Plus, he’d been recognized, so there was little chance that he would stay with them.

Finally, Maria answered. “Agent Claudia, we are of little importance compared to your case.” The faint crack in her voice revealed the answer to her question. Abuela had to choke back a sob.

“No! Hold on, Maria, okay? Give me your location and I’ll get you out of–”

“Agent Claudia, our fates are not the ones to be concerned about. You _have to_ keep Usnavi safe.” Her voice wavered again, and Abuela suddenly remembered that Maria once mentioned that she knew him, too. Apparently, they had met before Abuela was assigned to him. Agent Reynolds continued, her voice growing stronger. “It is imperative that you do _not_ , I repeat, do NOT give the exact details of the plan in your apartment. He’ll be listening in. He already knows you’re flying and plans to strike you down in the air. Just stay quiet, if you can.”

Abuela was still fighting back tears, half of grief and half of pride at the way Maria handled herself, even in this situation. There was no way that she was letting go of her agents, her brave, selfless agents, without a fight. Still, she knew Maria was right. Usnavi was their top priority.

“Okay. But what about the Code 1A?” she asked. “Do you think the situation is critical enough to cancel it altogether and keep him safe here?”

“I trust you to make the right decision, Agent Claudia. And I think – fuck.”

“What?” Abuela yelped, dread growing in the pit of her stomach. Maria’s voice, which had lost its waver and had been steadily growing stronger, suddenly dropped to a whisper.

“He’s coming back. Look, keep him safe, okay? Please. You have to. For me, and Herc, and everyone. Just– SHIT, Lee, calm down. We’re gonna be okay. Stop squirming and–”

Abuela heard the sound of a door creaking over the phone and a strangled gasp from Maria before a chillingly calm voice cut through the silence.

“No, please, Agent Reynolds, continue with your good-byes. I’d hate for you to have any unshared sentiments before you lose the ability to express them.”

There was a deafening pause, and she couldn’t help but feel like she’d heard that voice before. Abuela Claudia imagined Maria staring up at this man and– no. She didn’t want to know what position she was in. She heard a swallow over the phone before her agent’s voice appeared again. This time it was quieter, but no less urgent. A message just for her.

“Tell Usnavi that I forgive him, if he ever figures out… you know. And thank you for everything, Agen– Abuela Claudia. Please, don’t lose yourself over us. This is what we’ve trained for, and GOD, if it means I get to see Eliza again, then that’s–”

Maria was interrupted by six loud BANGS from the line. One for each of her team members, minus the one that had pulled the trigger. Abuela Claudia choked back a sob and barely kept the phone to hear ear.

Maria was dead.

Her whole team was dead.

And she’d just put Usnavi in grave danger.

The voice cut through her frantic thoughts, clear and oddly familiar even through the phone.

“Agent Claudia,” the voice greeted, not warmly, but not coldly either. She was instantly brought back to the first phone call she made about the Code 1A finally recognized the voice.

“That’s me,” she responded flatly, feeling rage boil up in her chest.

“What a pity we’ve only made acquaintances over the phone. From what I’ve heard from your team, you are quite a delightful woman.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” she growled, all pleasant pretenses gone. “You lay a hand on one more person in this barrio, and so help me, I’m–”

“Ohoho,” the voice laughed, devoid of all humor. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You see, _I_ have a team of my own. They’re flying in right now, actually. I don’t need to lay a hand on ANYONE, they’ll do all the work for me. And... perhaps if you left Usnavi to do his _own_ vacationing, you wouldn’t even have to SEE the– ah, _handling._ ”

“If you’re expecting me to give him up without a fight, you’re–”

“Oh, you WILL go without a fight, Agent Claudia. You will do exactly as I say, because that is the way nobody else in your little neighborhood gets hurt. Do you understand me?”

Abuela stayed silent.

“Wonderful. Now here’s what you are going to do,” the voice said, dropping an octave. “You’re going to sit and wait in your apartment until my team shows up. You are to let nobody else in, and tell NOBODY about the situation. And when they arrive, you will let them in, and you will tell them the exact date, details, and time of your flight. If you cooperate in this endeavor wholly and without conflict, nobody else will get hurt, and, as I’ve mentioned before, you don’t even have to be on that plane.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

“Perhaps you are aware that I am not entirely a man of honor. But that does not make me unreasonable. You see, all systems, whether natural or not, strive for the most effective means of operation. The highest possible output for the lowest possible input. The path of least resistance. My resources are limited, Agent Claudia, and I don’t intend to waste them on meaningless passerby. He is the only one I need. Do you understand?”

“Take me instead,” she argued desperately. “You’ve taken my team, Reynolds, Lee, all of them. You need somebody else from this case? Take me, leave him alone. It’s–”

“Agent Claudia, do not delude yourself into believing that this is a numbers game,” the voice growled. “I killed your team because it was absolutely necessary, but they were inconsequential. You are not a substitute. This is not a body-for-a-body matter. It is a matter of me putting a stop to that arrogant, loud-mouthed, _short-tempered, immigrant, BASTARD, WHORE’S SON–_ ” 

The voice stopped, took a breath, and returned to its softer volume.

“For years, I waited, and I waited, and I waited, and I WAITED for _my_ opportunity, for MY chance to make something of myself. And do you know what it feels like, Agent Claudia, to have every opportunity, EVERY SINGLE DREAM snatched from your hands by the _same man_? The first time, for him to go away completely, I had to see Eliza Schuyler defeated, and that was difficult. But taking him, watching him completely silent and speechless for the first time, that was easy. Perhaps I should’ve known it was TOO easy. He shouldn’t’ve died so soon. In any case, I dealt with the aftermath, framed his political adversary– I was the lawyer for the prosecution, ironically– but suddenly, he wasn’t gone. His case was as big and as arrogant as he was. And after that whole thing, there was a public investigation of potential corruption in the white house, which you’ve probably seen on the news. It led to the election of 1800 new staff members and delegates, which, besides him, was the worst scandal to hit the government in a hundred years. I had to quit my law firm amidst all the publicity, for fear of certain _rumors_ beginning to take hold. He had slashed my dream AGAIN, even in death. And this time, there was nobody to take revenge upon. So imagine my surprise when, four years later, I answer the phone at my new job, look at a computer screen, and see HIS face staring at me. Finally, I get to take my revenge. FINALLY, I will have the last say.”

“So why don’t you just kill him now, if you want him so badly?” Abuela asked quietly, picking off a small microphone hidden in one of her refrigerator magnets and examining it closely for any signs of ownership. None.

“Agent Claudia, if having him die can also be a perfect metaphorical ending to his legacy– being shot from his much-too-high position in the sky as suddenly and as violently as he had ascended–”

There was a pause, and she swore the temperature in the room dropped by twenty degrees.

“–Then I’m willing to wait for it.”

Abuela Claudia didn’t speak; instead, she waited for the voice to continue. It did, after a moment, returning to its chillingly calm tone.

“Speaking of planes, mine has just arrived at JFK. I don’t pretend to know the traffic situation in Manhattan, so I trust you’ll know how long it’ll take them to reach your apartment. I have faith that you will cooperate with them.”

Abuela did not speak.

“Goodbye, Agent Claudia.”

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kinda hard to write plot twists when you're literally retelling a story but I tried :')
> 
> On Thursday I will be having a very minor surgery done, so forgive me if I don't get a chapter out on Friday! Or Monday, depending on how I do. But I'll be back as soon as I can!
> 
> No Chapter 10 sneak peek :) but I LOVE Y'ALL AND SEE YOU (hopefully) SOON!


	10. Abuela Claudia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter, but it's Abuela's final POV for Carnaval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK Y'ALL
> 
> BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER
> 
> except Me 2.0 will only have use of one arm for a while so please excuse any typos I may make :')

The pill in her palm was a glossy blackish-blue color, oval-shaped, and smaller than she remembered it. Abuela stared at it, sitting at the foot of her bed. There was already a glass of water on her nightstand. She vaguely wondered how old it was. Not that it mattered, anyway– she let out a dry laugh– she couldn’t get sick from it regardless.

The federal agency, having a high standard of confidentiality, had a protocol for when a case became irreparably bad, or an agent’s cover was blown. They provided only one pill. It was enough.

It felt heavy in her palm as she went over her situation again. Her cover was blown, her team was killed, enemy agents were on their way to interrogate her, and Usnavi was in grave danger. There really was no other way out of it. Her boss would put a new team of agents in, a new social agent. All the defective agent’s ties to them would be severed if she was gone, and he wouldn’t risk hurting anyone in the barrio in case he revealed himself again. And the agency would know where to go from there.

She hoped Usnavi would understand. After everything they’d been through together, the long nights, the storms, he had learned to depend on her. And, no matter how many times complete lies about his past came out of her mouth, he believed her, trusted her, clutched to her words like they were his only form of solace. Of course, he wouldn’t know why she was leaving; paramedics would probably chalk it up to a sudden heart attack, a combination of the stress and the heat. It would be the final lie she would present to him.

Even in death, she would be lying to him. And he would STILL believe her.

Abuela bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back tears. Everything was as taken care of as well as it could have been, there was no time to cry about it. She had approximately ten minutes until the agent’s team reached the barrio, and she had to be gone by then. If not, well, she hurt just _thinking_ about what would happen to the rest of them: Nina and Benny and Vanessa and Kevin and Camila and Daniela and Carla and Sonny.

Oh, Sonny.

She hoped the kid would forgive her. She was taking herself away from him, AND she was taking Usnavi, too. She had pushed the kid to the back of her mind in previous thoughts about the extraction, about the years she spent comforting him through the hard nights and all the demons he wouldn’t dare bring up with anyone else. She felt guilty sometimes when she saw him sitting on the bodega counter, smiling when she came in. In a way, even though he was younger, he was like the older sibling when it came to Usnavi: she put him on the backburner, encouraged him to solve his own problems while she helped Usnavi with his. Of course, she hadn’t meant to do so, but Usnavi was her _job._ And Sonny had warmed up to his older cousin so well that it was hard to believe that he noticed a difference at all. No, Sonny was tougher than he looked. He would understand. He could hold his own, he could do more than that– he would _thrive._ Abuela wished she could live to see the ways the kid would change the barrio.

She wished she could live to see the way all those kids would change the WORLD. Vanessa, with her dreams and her defiant independence, was going to be a badass lawyer or something one day. Sonny, of course, was going to start rallies upon rallies for all the problems he could find. And Graffiti Pete would still probably be at his side at that point. Hopefully Sonny could get him to use his wonderful abilities for something useful. Benny would be a real businessman; he'd be bigger than any dispatch owner, or neighborhood land broker. Perhaps he’d get even bigger than the country and take on the world.

And Nina. With her brilliance and compassion and intuition, Nina was going to be something HUGE, she just knew it. Hopefully she’d come to her senses and go back to school. Then, she’d make the blind see again, or lead the nation, or anything she wanted to do. It would be amazing.

Deep down, she knew they would all understand eventually. It might take some a little longer than others, but they’d forgive her. After all, she’d watched them grow up. Even though Nina and Usnavi were her actual duties, she grew to know every detail of all of them. She observed from her window as Benny and Nina sat on the dispatch stairs and laughed and talked until Kevin emerged and they reluctantly broke apart. She chuckled to herself as Usnavi talked to Vanessa at the bodega, words stumbling and rushing out of his mouth as he alternated between trying to confess his love for her and frantically trying to cover his tracks after almost doing so. She didn’t miss the looks of longing that Sonny gave Pete when he was looking the other way. They would all take care of each other. And if her replacement managed to keep Usnavi out of contact with the inside agent, they would all be safe.

She would miss the barrio, for sure. She would miss walking down the streets, smiling at everyone that passed. She would miss watching from her window as the kids played outside, screaming and singing and skipping down the street. She would miss Mr. Rosario and Benny’s voices crackling through the radio from the dispatch station. She would miss the sudden encounters with vibrant splashes of color on the walls, courtesy of Graffiti Pete. She would miss Daniela and Carla at the salon, gossiping about everything under the sun as Vanessa shook her head and swept all the hair off the floor.

Looking out the window, she saw people laughing and dancing in the street and chuckled despite the tears streaming now freely down her cheeks.

The team was supposed to arrive any minute now. Abuela Claudia was cutting it close. Sighing, she grabbed the glass of water and sat back on the bed, taking a breath.

For all the time she sat there contemplating, she expected to feel more emotion when she placed the pill on her tongue, raised the glass to her lips and swallowed. Instead, there was nothing but a bewildering sense of tranquility as she laid back and tucked her legs under the blankets, staring at the ceiling. She remembered seeing the stars the night prior. Her mother was up there, watching from the twinkling lights. And soon, her soul would venture up there too, flying like a bird out of the neighborhood, past La Vibora, up into the sky. She would join her mother in looking down and–

Her heart grew happy as she smiled.

She WOULD get to watch those kids change the world. Except it wouldn’t be from the window of her apartment, it would be from the stars. She would be another one of the twinkling lights smiling down at them, watching their lives unfold before her.

She couldn’t wait.

As she closed her eyes, her last coherent thought was her mother’s voice drifting through time, gently chiding her for her impatience to see it happen.

_All in good time, Claudia. Paciencia y Fe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calor, calor, CALOOOOOOR
> 
> Chapter 11 Sneak Peek:  
> Benny wasn't quite sure how he felt at the moment.


	11. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuela Claudia's vigil, featuring a phone call.
> 
> a.k.a. Alabanza, featuring exposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a couple of housekeeping things:  
> 1\. This is set in 2008, but y'all probably already knew that, you brilliant people you. Just thought I'd mention it.  
> 2\. Benny's full name was never disclosed (as far as I know, lmk if you've found otherwise) so I'm taking some artistic liberty and giving him one. You'll see it later.  
> 3\. I stretched my artistic liberty beyond its boundaries and made up my own word hehe... Well, it makes sense structurally, and TECHNICALLY it works. 10 points to whoever finds it!  
> 4\. Idk if I've said it lately but I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND YOU'RE ALL SO SUPPORTIVE AND I JUST

Benny wasn’t quite sure how he felt at the moment.

He had narrowed it down to two emotions, though: either guilty or sad.

They were all standing at the stairs that led up to Abuela Claudia’s apartment, looking up at Usnavi who was standing at the top with his head hung low. After the announcement had been made from the dispatch about Abuela’s passing, everyone had congregated around her stairs, some holding candles, some holding flowers, some empty-handed, offering only their condolences. Benny himself was holding Nina.

Of course, he was devastated that Abuela Claudia was gone. They _all_ were. But in his reasoning, it was only a matter of time before it happened. She was old, and not exactly _sickly_ , but not without her fair share of health problems, either. And she had passed peacefully; surely she didn’t want anyone to cry over her. Besides, it was incredibly difficult to concentrate on anything else while he held Nina, her head tucked against his chest, her soft curls brushing against his hand as he stroked her hair. The warmth of her electric candle was pressed against his back as she clung to him. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe he could do this: hold her close and run his fingers through her dark curls and plant a kiss on her forehead. It felt like he’d waited forever to do it. Then, thanks to the blackout, of all things, he finally could. Whenever he wanted. It was hard not to be happy about that. He was trying to echo the pain in her posture, and the pain of the people standing around them in their impromptu vigil, but he simply couldn’t. People like him just didn’t mourn that way. Which was why he was so guilty.

He tried to tune back in to Usnavi’s voice as he rubbed his other hand in slow circles across Nina’s back. The man on the steps continued on.

“Abuela Claudia had simple pleasures, she adored the things in life that we ignore. Like old coke bottles, breadcrumbs, stars. She cherished these things– she’d see them and she’d say, _‘Alabanza.’_ It means to raise this thing to god and say ‘praise to this.’ She made everything seem like His gift. Everything had its place in the world. When she was here, the path was clear. And she was JUST here–” Usnavi’s voice broke and he looked at his feet, a tear dropping from his cheek and splattering onto the steps.

“She was just here.”

The congregation fell silent watching him barely keep himself together. Finally, Nina unfolded herself from Benny’s arms and turned to face the broken man on the stairs. There was a beat of silence, then–

“ _Alabanza._ ” Nina was singing, holding the candle out in front of her. Her voice was quiet and a little wavery from crying, but it was still beautiful. Benny had heard her sing before, but it was always for fun, like when she sang hello through the dispatch microphone. To hear her sing like _this_ made his heart ache, and he stepped closer to embrace her gently again.

“ _Alabanza a doña Claudia, señor. Alabanza, alabanza._ ”

Slowly, the congregation joined her slow melody. It got stronger and stronger as people chimed in, and Benny found himself singing, too, albeit very quietly in case he was doing it wrong.

“ _Paciencia y fe,_ ” somebody in the crowd sang, and the adage that once was hers rippled around the crowd, too.

“ _Paciencia y fe._ ”

“ _Paciencia y fe, doña Claudia,_ ” Nina sang, and her song grew louder and louder. As one, every single person in the congregation raised their hands, sending candles and flowers into the sky, raising them to God, and to Abuela Claudia.

“ _Alabanza!”_

_“Alabanza!”_

_“Alabanza!_ ”

The crowd fell silent as Usnavi stepped forward. Candles and flowers were still raised to the sky as they waited in anticipation. Finally, he spoke up.

“ _Alabanza,_ ” he sang once, quietly, and then fell silent. One by one, the crowd lowered their flowers and candles and walked up, placing them on the steps. Nina and Benny held back with Usnavi, Benny’s arms still wrapped around her. Eventually, she turned her head to look up at him.

“Benny? Would you mind giving us a minute?”

“ 'Course. I think I’ll go home, if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

Benny planted a gentle kiss on her forehead in response before removing his arms from her waist. Then, giving one last smile to Usnavi (who gave him a watery grin in return), he turned and began the walk home.

~~~

For some reason, Benny didn’t want to read the newspaper. He sat on his couch staring at it in his hand, but he didn’t dare open it.

It just didn’t feel right to distract his mind from Abuela Claudia. Benny didn’t have much experience with grieving, but he knew that perhaps checking the sports section in the Sunday advertiser was not the way to do it.

As guilty as it made him feel, he knew he was never as close with Abuela as he should have been. Sure, she’d watched him when he was younger, but he mostly kept to his stepmom (whichever one his dad had at the time) and his older half-brother, when he came home from private school. The close-knit latino community in the barrio always seemed like something that he was intruding upon, like he was an outsider looking in. They were a total family in themselves. He was just the friend along for the ride.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed in his pocket and the dropped the paper to take it out. The caller ID made him smile in spite of himself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“Geooooooorge!” He bellowed. He could almost hear his half-brother wincing through the phone. “It’s been so long, _hermano!_ To what do I owe this pleasure?”

On the other end of the line, George sighed. “Hey, Benny. Been practicing your spanish, I see?”

Benny chuckled. “ _Sí, señor_. You remember Nina? From the barrio?”

“Kevin and Camila’s daughter? The one that’s going to Stanford?”

“Yeah, her!”

“Yeah, I remember her.”

“She’s been teaching me.” Benny paused and grinned. “And also dating me,” he added.

“That’s great, Benny! About both. Nina’s a great kid.”

“Yeah, she is.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Benny spoke up again.

“So, you called?”

“Oh, right. Benny, are you alone right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I have some–”

“Waiwaiwait. Before you start, I gotta know. Is this all tapped? Who’s listening in? Is the Secret Service on? Hey, Secret Service!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hey, it’s not often you get calls from the former President of the United States.”

“Ex _cuse_ you, I call all the time.”

“Your last call was on New Year’s day. And it was one of those blast voicemail thingies.”

There was a pause.

“Really? It’s been that long?”

“Yep.”

“Oh. I apologize for that. It’s been a busy couple of months. You know, what with the office and everything–”

“Are you fucking kidding me, George? You were president _four years_ ago.”

“...Right. It’s been a busy couple of years.”

“Understandable, I guess. What the hell do you do now, again?”

George sighed. “Intelligence," he responded vaguely.

“Right.” It wasn’t much for explanation, but George always had his secrets. This must’ve been one of them.

Another silence. George broke it this time.

“Anyway,” he said, his voice businesslike again. “Are you absolutely _sure_ you are alone? Nobody there? Because– Benjamin, this is important– this message is completely confidential. It’s actually the opposite of tapped. This call is untraceable.”

“Woah.” Benny straightened. The last time he’d been trusted with confidential information was when Usnavi first came to the barrio and he had to get everyone to play along and convince them that the man was his childhood friend. And when George called him by his full name, he knew some serious shit was about to go down.

“Benjamin?”

“What? Oh, yeah, yeah. I’m alone in my apartment.”

“Okay.” George took a deep breath and lowered his voice.  
“I’m sure you heard that Agent Claudia passed away today.”

Benny gasped. “ _Agent?_ ” he whispered.

“I‘m afraid so. She was Usnavi’s undercover social agent.”

The news rendered him speechless. Abuela Claudia? No. It couldn’t be. The first time George had told him about the social agent, those four years ago, he had pictured someone nameless and faceless. Someone behind the scenes, who kept the enemies away from him without even noticing, and _certainly_ not the barrio’s reigning matriarch. Granted, it made sense– she had taken him in and looked after him all the time– but he still couldn’t believe it. Abuela Claudia, the doting grandmother, the sweet, bright old woman, was a _secret agent_? There was no way.

“Benny?”

“Here,” he said quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know, that’s probably a hard pill to– never mind. Benjamin, I have a very important task for you.”

“Okay?”

“You must keep Usnavi in the barrio.”

The only thought Benny could register was complete and utter confusion. The situation seemed to spiral further and further from reality with each passing minute.

“Why the hell–”

“ _Please,_ Benny. It is very crucial to Usnavi’s safety that you keep him there.”

“But… you said Abuela Claudia was his social agent?”

“Yes.”

“But he said she wanted them to LEAVE–”

“The circumstances have changed, Benny, and now–”

“NO, she felt better with him LEAVING! And if she was responsible for his safety, then–”

“Benjamin! Just _trust_ me, you don’t know about this case, and I do, so–”

“ _You_ know? Huh? YOU know? I, who have spent every single day walking past her on the street, smiling, watching her feed her birds and take care of Usnavi, I don’t know anything about this case, but YOU, sitting in your big-ass chair in whatever office you’re probably in right now, enjoying your motherfucking air conditioner while we sweat ourselves to death in this heat, YOU KNOW what she wanted?” His confusion melted into frustration and he stood up pacing, remembering now why he didn’t bother calling George very often. His political air of superiority pissed him off. It was the problem with _most_ politicians, actually– they sat there all high and mighty in their little offices and claimed to know more about the streets than the people who actually walked on them. And to pretend to know Abuela Claudia, to have the NERVE to–

“She wanted to take him home.”

George’s voice snapped him out of his fury, and he stopped pacing.

When George spoke up again, his tone was softer. “That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? To take him home?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah– she’s… she was taking him to Puerto Plata because that’s where he always said his parents–”

“Okay. Sit down.”

Benny obeyed without question. His brother had an eerie talent of always knowing what he was doing through the phone. Phone-tuition, Benny informally called it.

“You’re right. Maybe I don’t know better. So I’m going to tell you everything I know about this case, and you can tell me what she would have wanted, okay?”

Benny’s first thought was that he was the least qualified individual to do that. It was more a job for Nina, or even Vanessa. But George needed his promise of confidentiality, and he couldn’t let Abuela Claudia down.

“Okay,” he finally replied.

“Okay, here goes,” George said, taking a breath. “As you know already, Usnavi was moved under Agent Claudia’s care in ‘04 after a kidnapping and attempted murder. Usnavi, of course, was not his name before. That’s his new identity. You know about his story– his parents, your friendship, et cetera.”

Only his brother would use “et cetera” while actually talking. Benny smiled and shook his head as George continued.

“Anyway, a couple of days ago, Agent Claudia reported a code… well, basically she realized that somebody from his old life came into the barrio and recognized him. The protocol for this is to relocate the protected person as soon as possible. So we sent in a team to get Usnavi out and keep the person from his old life away while he was still there. You’re following?”

“Yes,” Benny replied, frowning. “Barely.”

“Okay. Unfortunately, when she reported the code, it seems that somebody at the agency recognized Usnavi from his old life, and that that person was connected with the original kidnapping. We believe he went with Agent Claudia’s team to the barrio, where he must be hiding out now. This morning, he captured the rest of the team and killed them, all six of them. We know from an agent’s call that he got into contact with Abuela Claudia, and demanded she tell the details of Usnavi’s flight. We don’t know what exactly happened next, but she was found dead an hour later.”

“You think the man killed her?” Benny interrupted. His eyes drifted over to his apartment door, and upon seeing it, walked over to slide the lock into position.

“Good idea,” George replied after the lock had clicked shut. Benny sighed. His brother’s phone-tuition bordered on spooky sometimes.

“And no,” George continued, “we don’t believe that he actually _physically_ killed her. What did the paramedics say about her death, did you know?”

“They said her heart gave out. A combination of the stress and the heat.” He remembered Usnavi recounting that in his pseudo-eulogy.

“Okay, Benny– and this is especially sensitive information– the Agency has a protocol for when an undercover agent’s cover is blown or the sanctity of a case is otherwise compromised. It… it involves a cyanide pill.”

“Oh.” Benny had watched enough crime shows to know what that meant.

“Now, don’t get the wrong idea. She didn’t… take the pill because she was being threatened, although that was part of it. Agent Claudia was the best agent we had. The only reason she would do it was because that was the only way to keep Usnavi safe. The inside agent knew about her plan to get him out, so that was her call, in a way, to tell us that things could not go as planned.” George fell silent. Benny opened his mouth to speak, but his brother’s creepy phone-tuition won again.

“Now, before you say anything, please consider everything I just said. I know that what you’ve seen probably doesn’t provide evidence that he should stay, but I hope you’ll listen to a voice of reason.”

Benny opened his mouth again, and this time he was uninterrupted. “You said that you believe the man who wanted Usnavi dead is hiding in the barrio?”

George faltered. “Y-yes, however, we believe–”

“Then shouldn’t Usnavi get AWAY from here?”

“Benny, listen–”

“I DID!” he protested.

“We believe that the agent in the barrio will not strike as long as Usnavi is there. Because Agent Claudia put the case under such scrutiny, it would be too great a risk to do something so bold and face the danger of being caught by our investigators. And, assuming he knows her plan, it would be much, much easier to have something go wrong with a metal tube hurtling through the sky twelve kilometers above the the ocean.”

Benny considered that for a second. He admitted to himself that perhaps being able to protect Usnavi with George’s secret agents felt safer than sending him off by himself to a faraway island. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard. Again, George guessed his actions through the phone.

“You’re not convinced,” he stated. As was bound to happen in serious situations, Benny found himself randomly wondering how George would react if he flipped him off right then and there. No doubt he would see THAT, too.

“I’m just– George, you just told me like seven federal secrets, let me take them in first.” It might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but the newfound information did bounce around Benny’s head wildly.

George sighed. “I haven’t even given you the most important one yet.”

Benny waited expectantly, but George didn’t continue.

“Well? Are you gonna tell me?”

“Are you gonna keep Usnavi in the barrio?” George shot back.

“I thought you were gonna tell me everything and then let me decide on my own.”

“Benny, this information only pertains to you if Usnavi stays.”

“Then give it to me and I’ll see if he does.”

George sighed in exasperation. “I’d fight with you if I didn’t already know you were so stubborn.”

Benny grinned smugly. “Damn straight.”

George sighed again. “You know, I’d feel a lot better if I didn’t have to disclose federal secrets to a man who just said ‘damn straight.’”

“Well, that’s a damn shame, because you do.”

“Benjamin.”

“Gregorico.”

That threw George off quite a bit. “That’s not even my– what?”

Benny laughed. “I don’t know. Why don’t YOU have a nickname so I can say ‘George’ and have it be a super-serious thing?”

“Benny!” George sounded exasperated.

“I know! I’ll call you G-Wash!”

“ _Benny!_ ”

“G-WASH!”

“ _BENJAMIN WASHINGTON!_ ” Benny heard a fist slam on a table. “If you’re not up to seriousness right now, I will send somebody into the barrio to keep Usnavi there myself.”

“No, no, okay, George, I’ll be serious. I’m sorry. I just… there’s a lot that happened today.”

George sighed. “I know. I apologize, too. I know that humor’s just how you deal with things. And I really don’t want to send somebody else in there.”

There was a pause, and George continued.

“Benny, I… I knew Usnavi when he– before he was Usnavi. He was my right hand man in the war, and I saw him as almost a son of mine. Maybe it was a little bit of selfishness, but I couldn’t send him out of the country when he was put into the Victim Protection Program. I wanted to make sure he was safe, so I sent him to the Washington Heights Project, knowing full well that it was too close to his old life for him to live in comfort. And why do you think I did that? Because that’s not only where Agent Claudia was–” his voice softened, “–but that’s where my brother lived. And I knew that if anything ever happened, I could trust him to keep Usnavi safe.”

Despite his best efforts to keep it away, a lump formed in Benny’s throat at George’s sudden affection. Not much sentiment came from the Washington family as far as Benny was concerned. The only type of affection he ever got had been from Abuela Claudia, on rare occasions. Benny swallowed forcefully.

“God DAMMIT, G-Wash.”

“It’s true.”

Benny considered again. Of course, George was right– Benny felt better being able to keep him safe rather than sending him off to another island all by himself. He could take on that agent, if he had to. And now that he knew that George trusted him so much, he couldn’t let him down. He had to try his best, for him, and for Abuela Claudia, and for Usnavi.

“Okay.”

“What?” George asked, a little incredulously.

“I’ll keep him here.”

“Oh-o-okay,” George stuttered, caught a little off guard. “Thank you.”

“What’s the matter? Did my lack of stubbornness catch you off your game?” Benny teased.

“W-well, I didn’t think you’d’ve agreed without me telling you the secret first,” George explained.

_Wait._

“What?” Benny asked.

“Yeah? That secret? Now you’ll get Usnavi to stay, i’ll have to tell you anyway, but–”

Benny collapsed on his couch with a huff. “Jesus, G-Wash, here I was thinking that I was the super-important federal secret. But that’s just something you threw in to sway me.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true. And hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

Benny rolled his eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, you _know_ you couldn’t be a federal secret weapon. Not that I don’t find you valuable or anything–”

Benny was mildly interested in his brother’s phone-tuition abilities most times, but enough was enough.

“Okay, okay, how the everloving FUCK are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“How did you know I rolled my eyes?”

“You can just tell. It’s a brother thing.” There was a silence on the line. “See? What did I just do?” George asked.

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” Benny half-yelled, throwing his hand up in the air in exasperation.

George laughed, a real laugh this time, not a polite chuckle. Benny joined in after a moment. Even though it was a business call, it felt good to laugh with his brother. They hadn’t done it in a long, long time.

The moment passed gradually as both boys’ laughters subsided. Finally, George cleared his throat to bring them back to business.

“So, Benny, you’re still alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

A pause.

“Benny, you know the blue pills Usnavi takes every day?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what they are?”

“Uh… Viagra?”

George snorted.

“No– and I’m glad you’re taking these federal secrets so seriously, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

“That was always YOUR job.”

“Okay, fine. Anyway, the blue pills regulate his brain activity. When he was... given a new identity, we had to have his old memories blocked.”

“BLOCKED?”

“We had neuroblockers installed in his brain. They absorb any electroactivity that tries to stimulate them– the memories– so that he can’t access his old identity. You know how he rubs that spot over his eyebrow?”

“Yeah. He gets headaches there.”

“Exactly. Those start when he tries to remember, because it’s the only sensory memory we couldn’t completely suppress without turning him into a permanent analgesic. That spot is where his kidnappers hit him repeatedly and where our agent struck to knock him unconscious and stage his death.”

“I’m gonna pretend I know what all those words meant and let you continue.”

“Alright. So if Usnavi stops taking the blue pills, the pain gets worse and worse the more he tries to remember, or people like you remind him of his past.”

“People like ME?”

“You look like me, and he knew me pretty well. But I’m not done yet. The brain, despite not having a great ability to generate new neurons, is well-known for its remarkable elasticity. If neurons lose their function, like the ones that remind him of his old self, they’ll re-fire and take on other tasks, and the ones who’ve already been operational may take on the functions that have been impaired. Those neuroblockers will continue to do their job, but if given enough stimulation, eventually the neuroelectric current will find new routes to circumvent them, like cars go around a roadblock through the back roads. And if that is allowed to happen–”

“Usnavi gets his memories back?” Benny guessed.

“Yes. Exactly. And that CANNOT happen.”

“Why not?”

George sighed. “For obvious reasons, Benny. The same reasons why we took them away in the first place.”

“WHY? I don’t understand why you had to take them away. Couldn’t you spare him the pain and just let him keep his old self a secret?”

“Because, he–” George chuckled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Usnavi does not keep secrets well. And it was even worse before.”

Benny scoffed. It was true.

“Besides, Usnavi never knew about Agent Claudia. If he figures out his past, that means he figures out that she lied to him for four years. And how do you think he would react to that?”

Another good point. Benny owed it to Abuela to protect her legacy, and protect Usnavi.

“Okay, okay. I’ll keep him here, and I’ll make sure he takes his pills everyday.”

He heard George sigh in relief.

“Thank you, Benny. I owe you one.”

“No probs, G-Wash. Anything for Usnavi. Oh– and you, I guess.”

“Wow. I can FEEL the love. Right through the phone.”

“Yup. And maybe if you called more often, you would feel more of it.”

George sighed. “You’re probably right. We have to get together more often, Benny. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, G-Wash. Life’s just not the same without my older brother to buy me stuff every day in the barrio.”

George chuckled, then sighed. “I’ve overstayed my telephone visit, I gotta go. Bye...” Benny wondered if he was inheriting the phone-tuition, because he swore he could hear a smile creeping up on George’s lips. “Bye, B-Wash.”

“EUGH!” Benny laughed, thinking up a retort, but the line had already clicked dead. He took the phone from his ear and chuckled at it, shaking his head. He _really_ missed his brother. If his proposition of getting together more often was genuine, then Benny couldn’t wait. It had been waaaay too long.

_You have a job to do in the meantime, though,_ he thought, shaking his head. First things first, he had to get Usnavi to stay in the barrio. But how? He’d loved Abuela Claudia more than anyone, and it was her last wish to have him leave. How was he gonna counter that? What sort of force would he need to combat undying love for–

With an almost audible “ping,” he had his answer. Yes, if anyone could convince him to stay, it was her. He flipped back open his phone, found her contact number, and pressed dial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: George Washington actually had phone-tuition. It was just never discovered because he never saw a phone. ;)
> 
> Chapter 12 Sneak Peek:  
> Vanessa was sitting on the steps at the dispatch waiting for Nina when her phone rang.


	12. Vanessa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (To the tune of Champagne) I owe you a bottle of all the guilt I've kept in for four yeeeeears
> 
> Wherein Vanessa's dragged into this mess, too.

Vanessa was sitting at the steps of the dispatch, waiting for Nina to show up, when her cell phone rang. It was Benny. Sighing, she closed it. It wasn’t like she didn’t like him or anything, she just didn’t want to be distracted when Nina showed up. And Benny would be, like, Nina’s ULTIMATE distraction.

She needed to talk. No, it was more than that. She needed a serious heart-to-heart with her best friend. Her dreams had come true: she got a studio downtown. She was finally getting out of the barrio. There was only one problem: she’d gotten the place with Daniela co-signing the lease, and it was Usnavi’s idea. It just didn’t feel like a real victory.

Not that she wasn’t grateful, it was just that her dream was to get out of the place, fight her way out if she needed to. It seemed like this was too easy. There was no fighting. There was no ‘earning the final dollar’ and victoriously sliding it into her deposit box. Daniela had assured her that she wouldn’t be doing much paying, but it still felt like a bit of a cheat. And worst of all, _Usnavi_ had gotten the papers. As if she didn’t already feel guilty about talking to him every day, now she felt like she had to _repay_ him.

Not that she didn’t like Usnavi or anything. Of course, she _adored_ him– his dorky little dance moves, his fierce loyalty to his friends and family, the hilarious way he tried to flirt with her every day. She was crushed when he announced that he was leaving.

But all the things Nina and Daniela and Carla accused her of just weren’t true. She just wasn’t into him. It wasn’t like that– he was like a cute little puppy doing his thing, like how Sonny flirted with Nina. And besides, she didn’t really want to be tied down by a man, anyway. Where was the fun in going to a club and having to stay with one person the entire time?

_Well, it’s not like you did that anyway,_ her conscience grumbled, and the guilt hit again. After their rather horribly-ending date, she had yelled at him and blamed him for abandoning her. Abandoning HER, like she had been at his side anyway. AND he apologized for it. He was just too infatuated to ever find fault in her. She hated seeing him look at her like that every day, knowing eventually she would have to break his heart. She hoped that the one good thing about him leaving would be the end to their sort-of-relationship– surely, he wouldn’t keep up a long-distance thing– but now, he had just made her dreams come true, and Vanessa didn’t know _what_ to feel. Nina would be able to help her. Nina always knew what to do, she was always so smart and compassionate and–

Suddenly, Vanessa realized her phone was still ringing. She took it out of her pocket and frowned. The indicator at the top read in blocky letters, “4 missed calls from Benny,” and apparently he was calling for a fifth time.

_What do you want?_ She thought, more curious than annoyed.

Her heart dropped. What if something had happened to Nina, or Usnavi? Frantically, she pressed the green button and put the phone to her ear, mentally scolding herself for drifting off.

“Hello?” she asked, a little tentatively. She heard the fear in her own voice.

“VANESSA! Finally! It’s about time you picked up the damn phone!” Benny paused. “Are you okay?” He added, probably hearing the tremor in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she assured him. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

“Nothing happened,” Benny replied, a little too quickly. “Why, what did you hear?”

“Benny, you called me five times in a row. Clearly you’re not here just to chat.”

“Oh. Right.” She heard him take a deep breath over the phone before he continued. “I need a favor.”

“You can’t ask Nina?”

“No, it’s– it’s about Usnavi. And well, you know how he’s in lo–”

“Yeah,” Vanessa interrupted. She knew. Literally everyone knew.

“Okay. Well, anyway,” Benny continued. He seemed smaller somehow over the phone. Less easygoing, and less confident. He almost sounded nervous. “I need a favor.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Right. Okay, sorry.” He took a deep breath again and Vanessa raised an eyebrow. Clearly, he was distracted about something, but she hadn’t the faintest idea of what it could be.

“I need you to convince Usnavi to stay.”

_What?_

“What?” Vanessa voiced her thoughts. Of course, EVERYONE wanted him to stay, but why did Benny, of all people, want to _do_ something about it?

_And do I really want to be the one to convince him to stay?_ she thought. It just seemed like more insult to his injury: deflect his affections, ruin his date, accept his favor AND take his dream away and crush the last thing Abuela Claudia ever gave to him.

“Why would I do that?”

“I can’t explain,” was Benny’s explanation. How wonderful.

“It’s just– it’s really important, okay? He has to stay. I don’t know what you’re going to tell him, but I’m sure you’ll find something. He hangs onto your every word, anyway.”

“Benny, I can’t just–”

“Vanessa, LOOK.” Benny still sounded nervous, so while that was probably meant to come out strong, it emerged as a squeak. Vanessa dropped her protest and listened; whatever it was, she’d never heard this man so worked up about it.

“I wish I could tell you what’s going on, but I can’t. And you can’t say anything, either. Not right now, at least. All I can say is that Usnavi can’t leave the barrio while– but anyway, please, Vanessa. I can’t do it alone, and you’re probably our best hope of getting to him right now. Please, just… just trust me?”

Vanessa didn’t answer. At least not right away. She vaguely wondered if Benny’s predicament had anything to do with Nina, since it was the only thing she’d ever seen him get a little serious about. But whatever that had to do with Usnavi staying home was a complete mystery. She decided she wouldn’t push it; if Benny wanted it kept a secret, then it would be a secret. That’s what friends did.

“Okay,” she finally responded.

“Really?” She definitely heard relief in his voice.

“Yeah, I’ll try my best.”

“Oh my fucking god, THANK YOU, Vanessa. I owe you one. I’ll take you to dinner or something–”

“I’ll pass,” she replied automatically, and winced. Saying no to “I’ll take you out” was an instinctive reaction, even if Benny had definitely not meant it that way.

“Okay, never mind,” he backtracked, chuckling. “But really, if you need anything at all, just ask. I’ll repay you.”

“Thanks.” Vanessa thought briefly about any way she could need his help.

“Actually, there is one thing.”

“Anything. What do you need?”

“Can I borrow a cab and, like, twenty-five dollars?”

~~~

As Vanessa was walking into the bodega, Sonny was walking out. He looked a little affronted, and she caught the end of what she could only imagine was a long rant.

“Who would Bert be without an Ernie?!?”

She giggled as he pushed past her, giving her an exasperated glance before walking out the door.

“He’s right, you know.”

Usnavi looked up from the counter and, upon seeing her, his face broke into a huge, goofy grin. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest as she smiled back, raising a hand to wave at him. The other hand stayed behind her back, gripping a slick bottle hidden out of sight.

And _God,_ if that smile didn’t make her even more guilty.

“Hey, Vanessa!” He greeted, waving back. 

“How are you doing?” She asked, making her way to the counter. His smile faltered slightly as he looked at his feet.

“I’ve been better.”

_How FUCKING INSENSITIVE could you POSSIBLY BE,_ her conscience snapped.

“I’m really sorry.”

Usnavi looked at the ceiling with a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. Then he ducked under the counter and re-emerged with a rag, and busily started wiping down the surface.

“Not your fault,” came his short reply a little while afterward, while he scrubbed at some imaginary stain. Vanessa watched him with concern. He was still avoiding her eyes. For the first time since Benny had told her about his wishes, she had doubts about her ability to convince him. Perhaps Abuela Claudia’s passing was an insurmountable obstacle. Perhaps there _was_ a woman Usnavi adored more than Vanessa. But she had to try, for whatever the hell Benny wanted. She took a deep breath.

“I got you a present,” she smiled, waggling her eyebrows. He didn’t look up.

“What is it?”

“I went downtown to get it. Doing anything today?”

“Cleaning,” he replied.

“Well, you’re done for the day.”

“I can’t, I got--”

“Because we’ve got a date.”

Suddenly he straightened and threw the rag over his shoulder, smiling again.

“Okay.”

Vanessa had to suppress a laugh and grinned instead. The guy was hopeless. She pulled her other hand out from behind her back, revealing the bottle.

“Well, I owe you a bottle of cold champagne, don’t I?”

“No!” Usnavi gasped and his eyes widened as he reached his arms out to grab it. Laughing, she passed it over to him.

“Yeah!”

“My GOD, the bottle’s all sweaty and everything!” he whispered, examining it closely. “You went and got this?”

“Pop the champagne!” was Vanessa’s response.

Still, Usnavi didn’t open it. He looked up at her. “I don’t know if we have coffee cups, or plastic cups, I think Sonny has the cups–"

“Tonight, we’re drinking straight from the bottle, then,” Vanessa interjected, a little more forcefully as she smiled. He was still picking at the label, examining it in his hands.

“Usnavi?”

“Yeah?”

“Daniela told me what you did for me with the studio, and it’s honestly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He didn’t look up.

“What can I possibly do to repay you?”

He still didn’t look up.

“How d’you get this gold shit off?” He finally muttered.

_Oh. My. GOD,_ Vanessa thought, exasperated. Perhaps champagne wasn’t the best idea.

“Usnavi!”

“Yeah?” He was still picking at the top.

“You wanna take a walk? Y'know, before we both leave town, before the entire neighborhood changes. Walk around the barrio, say our goodbyes– USNAVI!”

He finally looked up at her snapping his name. There was a look in his eyes that she didn’t recognize, an almost brokenness to them.

“Are you alright?”

He looked down again, and the broken look was gone. “I’m fine, I’m just tryna open this champagne!” He pointed to the lid. “You see, the twisty thing is broken, but I’m gonna OPEN this DAMN champagne–”

“Lemme see it,” Vanessa reached for the bottle, but Usnavi pulled it away.

“No, I got it!” He insisted, busying himself with the cap again. Vanessa threw her hands up in frustration. “Yo Usnavi, drop the champagne!”

_WHY is he so worked up about the bottle? _she thought, confused beyond reason. _And WHY is it that the one time I want him to listen is the ONE TIME he wants to talk about something completely unrelated?___

__“I mean, you went through all this trouble to get us a little bubbly–”_ _

__“And it’s gonna be okay.” she said, gently reaching over the counter and pulling the bottle from his hands. As she did so, she gently squeezed her hand around his. It was enough to get him to look at her, confused, and suddenly, the broken look was back in his eyes. She took a deep breath and thought carefully, because she knew why he was so sad. Maybe before she could convince him to stay for her, they had to talk about Abuela Claudia first, and get all their emotional baggage out in the open. It was a delicate subject, so she had to be very careful about–_ _

__“You oughtta stay,” she blurted before even thinking about it, and she had to fight to keep her hand from slapping across her mouth. Trying to stay composed, she rested the champagne bottle on the counter and straightened the broken cap._ _

__Meanwhile, her conscience was screaming at her._ _

_Great motherfucking job, Vanessa. What the FUCK was that? So much for a delicate Abuela approach._ Dios mio. _“You oughtta stay?”_ QUE CHINGADOS? _What does he think now? There you go, flying your goddamn mouth again. Now he thinks you’re an insensitive ass, and it’s your own_ maldito culpa. _You have fun with this,_ cabróna _, because you’re on your own now._

All the while, Usnavi was looking at her, quite bewildered. The only thing Vanessa could think to do was keep talking, and hopefully she could remedy the situation. 

“I mean, you could use that money to fix this place,” she explained quickly. 

“Ha, ha,” Usnavi said, but he still wasn’t smiling. He looked very confused, standing there behind the counter with his brows furrowed and both his hands on the surface, like he was going to jump over at any moment. 

“It WAS your family’s store, and Abuela Claudia would want you to uphold their legacy,” she continued, grasping at straws. _Yep, just keep digging your lil’ shithole, Vanessa._

“And it’s not like Sonny’s got role models stepping up to the plate.” 

“Role models?” Usnavi repeated incredulously. “Vanessa, what’re you tryna say?” He hopped up onto the counter then, so that he was facing her and banging his heels against the side of it. 

She suddenly had a mental image of her conscience, a little mini-Vanessa sitting at a theater, swinging her little legs as it watched this disaster of a conversation. She decided that her only real plan of action was to go straight into what Benny wanted her to do. She would just try to make Usnavi stay by convincing him that she’d date him if he stayed. And then, if she managed to accomplish that, which was highly unlikely, then she would just break his heart later on. _Yeah,_ her conscience quipped sarcastically. _That sounds like a great plan._

_But then again, what else can I do?_

“I’m just saying, I think your vacation can wait–” 

“Vacation? Vanessa, you’re leaving too!” He vaulted off the counter to confront her, and she distracted herself by skirting him and grabbing the long-forgotten champagne bottle. “I’m going to West Fourth Street, you can take the A–” 

“Vanessa, what’re you tryna say?” He followed her, blocking the bodega door from view, and gave her a bewildered look. 

“You’re going to another country, and we’re never gonna see you again–” 

“WHAT ARE YOU TRYNA SAY?” He repeated, edging closer to her and gesturing wildly with his hands. 

Jesus _Christ._ Usnavi understood many things, but talking to women was NOT one of them. 

“You get everyone addicted to your coffee and then off you go–” 

“Vanessa, I don’t know why you’re mad at me–” 

“I _wish_ I was mad!” she finally snapped. _Jesus, can the guy take a HINT already? WHY is talking to him so difficult? Surely he understands what I’m trying to do, right?_

No, for some reason, this time he just didn’t get it. As he drew closer, probably trying to apologize, she realized there was only one way to try to get him to understand. 

Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward, grabbed him by the arm, closed her eyes, and pressed their lips together. 

For a moment, Usnavi seemed too shocked to move. He stood there frozen, his arms still in Vanessa’s grip. But then, he started to relax into it. He began to kiss back and his arm reached out to Vanessa’s waist. She pulled away then, taking his hands and gently placing the champagne bottle in them. She looked up to find him staring at her, eyes wide, with his lips still slightly parted. 

“I’m just too late,” she sighed, skirting past him and practically running to the bodega door. She took one last look back at him standing there, bottle in hand, wide eyes staring at her before she turned away and walked out. 

Her conscience spoke up again. 

_Well, THAT went well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's conscience is me @ me all the time lol
> 
> Chapter 12 Sneak Peek:  
> Sonny strolled down the sidewalk, kicking along a pebble with his slightly-scuffed sneakers, when his ears perked up.


	13. Sonny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sonny knows how to handle his emotions too well, or not well at all, depending on how one looks at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOWZERS this chapter was hard to write

Sonny strolled down the sidewalk, kicking a pebble with his slightly-scuffed Nikes, when his ears perked up. Somebody was coming, and it sounded like they were coming for _him_.

As he heard the quickly-approaching footsteps, his mind ran quickly through all the different scenarios he could imagine. It could be some vandal who recognized him from the night before as the bat-swinger at the bodega, coming back to take revenge. Without the rush of adrenaline he'd had last night, the best he could do was try to negotiate a peace. And peace and thugs mix about as well as oil and water. So hopefully it wasn't.

Or it could be Nina, running up to say hello and catch up with him. She’d been rather preoccupied when she returned, and they hadn’t gotten any quality time together since then. Among other things, he needed to give her a REAL serious talk about her questionable choice in men. He figured Abuela Claudia’s passing could be the catalyst for her to come and see him so they could talk about that, too. After all, he wanted to talk about it with someone. Someone more emotionally available than Usnavi was at the moment.

A small part of his mind hoped it was his older cousin, who would call to him and tell him that, yes he would stay in the barrio, and yes, the store would still be his. But he knew that wasn’t going to be the case, and mentally scolded himself for thinking it. Leaving had been Usnavi’s dream since he came four years ago, and it was essentially Abuela Claudia’s last wish for him. Sonny knew he was being selfish in wanting him to stay. He could hold his own in the barrio, anyway.

Another part of his mind thought (dare he say hoped) it was Pete. He would run up, familiar flat soles of his worn-out shoes slapping on the pavement, and grab Sonny by the shoulder. Sonny would turn around and look up at him, and Pete would cup his hand around Sonny’s cheek and press their lips together and run his other hand through Sonny’s hair and Sonny would uncurl his hands from his chest and slide them to Pete’s hips and–

Sonny shook himself to clear the thought from his head. Again. That scenario had slipped into his mind’s eye far too often over the past day. He had always had just a _teeeeeny_ tiny crush on his best friend, but of course, he had always banished those feelings to the back corners of his mind, mostly because Pete would definitely, 100% never like somebody like him. Then, last night, Pete had to go and freaking KISS him, and Sonny found himself thinking about it more and more with each passing hour. He remembered it vividly: one moment he had been staring at the fireworks, terrified that Usnavi might get to the bodega and find it totally destroyed, and then the next he couldn’t see the sky anymore and the only thing going through his mind was _PETEISKISSINGMEPETEISKISSINGMEPETEISKISSINGME._ Until he wasn’t anymore. Then it was _PETEJUSTKISSEDMEPETEJUSTKISSEDME_ and Sonny couldn’t seem to be able to move or speak or think about anything else. He finally got his bearings a couple minutes after Pete had laid him down on the old mattress and covered him with his jacket, but the moment had long passed. In any case, there was no way he could just get up and kiss his best friend without first talking to him about why the hell HE had done it in the first place. There was nothing he could do except close his eyes and let sleep pull him under. He figured that that they would talk about it the next morning.

But so far, they hadn’t.

He turned and faced his oncoming approacher, suddenly hoping it WASN’T Pete, because he didn’t quite trust himself to handle that sort of situation. Fortunately, it was the LAST person he expected to see running at him.

“Vanessa?” he called out to her, and she waved at him and slowed her pace slightly as she approached.

“Sonny.” Upon reaching him, she stopped and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath. It was a marvel how girls managed to run in their thick-ass wedge shoes, or as he liked to call them, TAWs.

“What’s up?”

“Hold on.” She straightened slowly, still breathing hard. Sonny waited.

“Okay. Walk with me.” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forward.

“Where are we going?”

“Just walking,” she replied, looking straight ahead.

“Oh… Okay?” Huh. Vanessa never ‘just walked’ with him.

“Is this about Usnavi?”

“No,” she replied, giving him a sideways glance that indicated _yes, the conversation would most certainly lead to Usnavi eventually._ She continued anyway. “I wanted to know how you’re doing… I know a lot’s happened today. And I think someone’s younger cousin has been feeling a bit left out.”

Wow. Never in a million years could Sonny imagine a scenario where _Vanessa_ would be the first one to try to comfort him. It was a little… uncomfortable. “I’m… well, I’ve been better, I guess,” he finally said.

She glanced at him sympathetically and released her ironlike grip on his arm. Thank god. He rubbed it a bit as she continued.

“I can imagine.” Vanessa’s voice was quieter, softer, and Sonny couldn’t speak on account of the lump that was forming in his throat. He’d managed, for the most part, to keep back the grief he felt when he heard about Abuela. After all, _somebody_ had to stay happy in the neighborhood, or else everyone would just get more and more sad. But then again, nobody had really talked to him about it. Now, he was slowly beginning to realize, keeping back the feelings was a bit harder than he’d expected it to be.

“Sonny, are you really okay?”

He swallowed and spoke, his voice coming out louder than he’d intended.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I mean, I guess I’m just a little… distracted.”

“What’s distracting you?”

“Take a guess,” Sonny responded flatly, and she sighed.

“Yeah, I know, I know.” She gave him another sideways look. “...Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah.” Sonny didn’t trust himself to say more than that.

“Sonny, you know you don’t always have to be so… sunny.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, partly in exasperation, and partly to try and stop the tears from coming. _Goddammit,_ he thought angrily. WHY could he hold it together so well until somebody said they cared about him? It was so frustrating how easily Vanessa was turning him into a mess of emotions. The lump in his throat was back, and he tried to swallow it down, but this time he was less successful.

“ ‘m fine.” His voice wavered a bit. Vanessa gave him another look, but thankfully didn’t push the issue.

They walked in silence for a while, Vanessa looking awkwardly at her feet, and Sonny trying angrily to control the pangs of grief hitting his chest in waves. Finally, they came to an intersection and Vanessa stopped.

“Do… do you think Usnavi loves me?” she spoke up, frowning at her feet. There it was. Sonny looked at her incredulously, his grief obscured temporarily by confusion. _Has Vanessa lost her freaking mind?_ He thought. _Where is this coming from?_

“Uh, I think you know the answer to that–”

“No, I mean, do you think he loves me as much as he loved her?”

She finally met his eyes, and he saw something in them he’d never seen there before. It looked a lot like… fear?

“Huh?”

She shook her head quickly and looked the other way, across the street. “Never mind, never mind. That was such a selfish question, you don’t have to answer it. I’m sorry. It’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s okay. And… I don’t think so.”

She looked at him again. Sonny continued.

“I mean, he DOES love you, and you know that… but I think it’s different. A different kind of love. Abuela Claudia… she was more than just a person, you know? She was– she was home. And even more so for him, I mean, she took him in, nurtured him, she was everything to him. Just like the city was. I think that’s why he loves the bodega so much, not because his parents owned it, but because it’s HER’S. Not directly, but it belongs to the barrio, so it belonged to her. She’s– she was everything.” Sonny’s voice broke at the very end of the sentence as the lump in his throat returned.

“Sonny?”

Slowly, he turned his head to Vanessa.

“Thank you. That’s– that’s it.”

Sonny was confused, both at the sentence and the fierce resolve that had appeared in her eyes.

“What?”

“Abuela Claudia is the heart of the barrio, isn’t she?”

The words struck Sonny hard and echoed in his head. He couldn’t give a response, but apparently Vanessa wasn’t waiting for one. She didn’t say another word. Or maybe she couldn’t, either. In any case, Sonny watched her turn her heel, look down the street, and cross it purposefully, not looking back.

~~~

The light was falling on the barrio by the time Sonny stepped out of his apartment, bidding Usnavi good night and locking the door behind him. It had taken him quite a while to decipher why exactly Vanessa’s words had hit him so hard, and quite a while longer to figure out what he was gonna do about it.

_Abuela Claudia is the heart of the barrio._

After a lot of thinking, he reasoned that maybe Vanessa wanted Usnavi to stay, too. Maybe she finally realized that she felt the same way that he did. But Vanessa was, well, _Vanessa_. There was no tying her down to one man. So probably not. His feet carried him without really thinking, and soon he was walking down the sidewalks away from his apartment and toward the bodega.

Sonny tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest as he continued down the street. His plan was to memorialize Abuela Claudia, keep her legacy a part of the barrio. It wasn’t only for Vanessa, and Usnavi, but for everybody who walked past the bodega. And in order to create the memorial he had in mind, there was only one person he could think of to help him.

The fluttering intensified as Sonny reached the bodega, turned a corner and found himself in the back alley staring at a familiar figure.

Graffiti Pete stood slouched against the wall, one foot out in front of him and the other protecting his backpack. His long, lean body was obscured by a large grey hoodie that slouched around his hips. The sleeves had been cut off to reveal his arms, one of which was rising and falling steadily as he lazily tossed a crushed soda can up and down. His lips were parted slightly as he whistled, and his low-lidded eyes were nearly drooped shut.

“Pete!” Sonny spoke quickly before he could begin imagining things. He inwardly winced as the words came out an octave higher than he’d intended to.

Pete turned his head at the sound (read: squeak) and his face lit up into a smile. Tossing the can into a bin, he stooped to shoulder his backpack.

“Sonny!” he called as he made his way to him. Sonny felt his hands getting clammy. “I heard about Abuela Claudia, man. Are you okay?” Pete asked, pulling him in for a tight, quick hug.

_Not anymore, I’m not,_ Sonny thought dully while surrounded by his arms.

“Yeah. I’m good,” he finally replied after being released. “I… I made my peace with it and all.”

“That’s good.”

Sonny realized that he had been staring at Pete for far too long (for like the FOURTH time that day) as they fell into an uncomfortable silence. He shook his head and broke his eyes away to step back and gesture to the alley.

“But thanks for meeting me. Step into my office.”

Pete laughed. “The fuck is this, a _business_ meeting?” He imitated Sonny’s businesslike tone. “Anyway, thank you for taking the time to meet me on such short notice. We have some things to discuss–”

Pete stopped short, eyes wide at the wad of cash that Sonny grabbed from his pack and held out to him silently.

“What’s this?”

“A commission.”

Pete stared at it and then looked back at Sonny.

“I can’t take this.”

“Well, you have to. I’m _commissioning_ you for your art. This is a business venture.”

“What am I painting?”

“I’ll tell you when you accept the job.”

Hesitantly, Pete stepped forward and reached for the money. He pulled it to his chest, counting the bills, eyes widening with each number.

“Okay, with this, I can hook you up. But it’ll take me all night.”

Sonny managed a weak smile, suffering slightly from how close they now were.

“Nobody knows about this except you and me, okay?”

Pete stepped even closer. Unbearably close. They were only inches apart now, and Pete nodded slowly, a slow smile rising on his face. Sonny stared back up, daring to imagine. If he only rolled up to his toes, or put his hand on Pete’s chest, then Pete would lean down and kiss him again, and Sonny would most _certainly_ kiss back, and–

He found himself stumbling backward, almost unwillingly. Pete stood there with the wad of cash still clutched to his chest.

“Thanks. We should get started while we still have a little light,” Sonny mumbled. “Y’know, when the sun goes down, it goes down fast.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Sonny smiled and gestured out of the alley. “C’mon.”

It was almost as if they were _supposed_ to kiss at that moment, but some higher power had decided, nah, let’s cut that part out of their script. Oh, well. There was certainly still a lot to be discussed, but Sonny felt much less anxious as he retraced his steps out of the alley. They had a job to do.

~~~

Sonny let out a whistle, and through the light of a little camp lantern that Pete had procured from his bag, he could see his figure shake his head and and quiver slightly in a silent chuckle.

“It’s not THAT good,” Pete muttered, stepping back and looking over the lines he had done so far. It was only a couple outlines in white spray-paint, but Sonny could already see forms taking shape.

“Yet. It’s gonna be good. I can tell.”

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna take a long time for it to be good.”

“Good art takes time.”

“Jeez. I hope you ain’t expecting Michaelangelo or some shit on this grate.”

Sonny laughed. “I’m expecting Graffiti Pete, which is better. Man, if only Usnavi walked to the bodega right now. I don’t think he would even notice that I fixed the grate. He would have a fit if he found out that I’m spending my entire lottery allowance on ‘the neighborhood vandal.’” Sonny imitated Usnavi’s whiny voice and laughed again, but Pete whipped his head around to stare at him.

“Your ENTIRE lottery allowance?” he repeated.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t all of it there. But trust me, Pete, there’s gonna be a lot of projects up ahead, and I’m gonna be your manager for them all. You got a bright future ahead of y-”

“You’re not leaving?”

Sonny stopped short. Pete’s wide eyes were trained on him in disbelief.

“I’m… What?”

“You’re staying in the barrio?” Pete’s voice was barely a whisper. Sonny stepped closer to hear him.

“Uh… Yeah? I-”

Sonny’s confusion went flying out of his head as he was quickly surrounded in a tight hug. His head was suddenly nestled in the crook of Pete’s neck, and he felt Pete’s chest right against his own. His hands wrapped around Sonny’s shoulders, then trailed up to his neck, then to his chin. He broke the embrace to tilt Sonny’s head up and look straight at him. Sonny stared back, barely daring to breathe. There was an intensity in Pete’s golden-brown eyes that he had only seen once before: the night in a different back alley under the fireworks.

“You promise?” Pete’s face was so close that Sonny felt his warm breath ghost across his lips.

Sonny’s INTENTION was to respond, it really was. But his mind had shifted into overdrive with images and scenarios racing back one after the other. If he tilted his head just a liiiiittle bit more, Pete’s lips would be on his, and–

_I can’t just kiss him out of nowhere,_ he reminded himself. _We have to talk about what the hell happened last night first._

And so far, they hadn’t.

“Sonny, PLEASE. Promise me.”

Pete’s voice was more insistent now, shaking him out of his reverie. Still not trusting himself to speak, he nodded slowly.

And just like that, he was in his embrace again. Before they broke apart, Pete murmured something into his hair that Sonny didn’t quite catch.

“What?”

Pete stepped back and smiled at him, laughing breathlessly. “I really thought you were going with Usnavi, man.”

“Why the HELL would I do that?”

He shrugged noncommittally, still smiling. Sonny loved that smile. It pulled his cheeks wide and creased new lines around his bright eyes. That smile made it seem ten million times brighter, even in the gloomy darkness of evening. Still, there was a tenseness in his posture when he spoke.

“I mean, you got the money, and Usnavi was going to close the bodega. He’s the only thing you got.”

“Not true. I got you, the newest _Michelangelo del barrio._ We’re gonna make so much money, just you watch.”

Pete chortled and turned back to the bodega grate, picking up his spray can and shaking it.

“Whatever. I’m glad you’re staying.”

~~~

Sonny was banging out a rhythm with his heels on the trashcan he was sitting on when Pete reached his hand back.

“Yo, pass the pink.”

Sonny scoffed. “Atta way to treat your friends. There ain’t no courtesy. Not even a _please,_ ” he teased.

Pete sighed and turned to give him a sarcastic glare. His hand was still holding out for a paint can. “Okay, will you _pleeeeeease_ pass the pink?”

“Oh, sure, since you asked so nicely.”

Sonny hopped down from the can and squatted in front of Pete’s backpack, where a bunch of paint cans were laid out haphazardly around it. The faint light from the lantern made it a little hard to see, but he selected the one with a pink cap and placed it in Pete’s outstretched hand. Pete took the can and looked down to pop the cap off, but then paused and turned to glare at Sonny. Unsarcastically.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“This is ORANGE.”

“No way. I swear that was pink.” Sonny walked closer to the light to examine the color in Pete’s hand. As it turned out, he’d actually grabbed orange.

“Shit, sorry. It looked pink from back there. Hold on.”

“Nah, we can make this work.” Pete shook the can and sprayed a couple of orange paint strokes across the grate, his arm moving fluidly and naturally as if he’d done it a thousand times before. After a few moments, he stood back to examine his work.

“Okay, NOW pass me the pink.”

Sonny raised an eyebrow and didn’t move.

“Fuckin’ hell. Pass me the pink _please_.”

“Oh, my pleasure.”

Sonny turned around, walked over and dropped in front of the backpack. He carefully selected the can with the actual pink top, and tossed it into Pete’s outstretched hand.

Pete took one look at the can, sighed in exasperation, and turned to throw it back at Sonny.

“I swear to GOD, Sonny.”

“ _What?_ ” he replied defensively again, looking down at the can that had been hurled at his chest.

“Isn’t this pink?”

“That’s BLUSH!”

“What the hell’s the difference?”

“I need pink. I _don’t_ need blush.”

“Dude, are ALL artists huge assholes? I mean, I know you don’t got manners, but I really thought you were alright.”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

Sonny sighed and gathered all the paint cans in his arms. He walked forward and dumped them unceremoniously in front of the light. “Find your own damn colors then, asshole.”

Pete stared at him, a slow grin growing on his lips. Sonny felt a warmth rising on his cheeks from the stare.

“Sonny?”

“What?”

Pete was smiling widely as he pointed to a spot behind Sonny. He turned around and saw a single canister of paint on the trashcan that he had been sitting on before the whole fucking thing started.

“Can you pass the pink, too, _please_?”

“FUCK YOU!”

Instead of grabbing the can, Sonny turned back around and tackled Pete.

~~~

In the faint light of the lantern, Abuela’s eyes looked startlingly eerie and empty. It was creepy. From his spot on the trash can, Sonny pointed it out.

“I KNOW, I’m not DONE yet,” Pete argued, staring at the bodega grate emptyhanded.

“So why aren’t you doing it now?” Sonny asked, hopping down from the trashcan to stand closer to the portrait.

At the same time, Pete stepped back so that they were side-by-side. “I’m checking if the background looks good. What do you think?”

Behind Abuela Claudia’s rather empty form, the background looked vibrant and alive in contrast. It was the barrio captured right at sunset, with brilliant oranges and pinks melting into one another. Emblazoned on it was her name, the blocky letters each holding their own sky full of stars. In one corner, a caption was nestled in a string of leaves. It read, ‘Paciencia y fe.’ Sonny sighed resignedly.

“I think it’s beautiful. She would love it. Dammit.”

Pete chuckled and slung an arm casually around his shoulder. Sonny found himself leaning into the half-embrace contentedly.

“You know what I think?” Pete asked, taking his eyes off the grate and training them on Sonny.

Sonny sensed the gaze and turned slowly to meet Pete’s eyes, feeling a warm rush to his cheeks.

“What?”

Pete grinned.

“I think the pink looks MUCH better than the blush would have.”

“FUCK YOU!”

Sonny shrugged out of Pete’s arm to tackle him again.

~~~

It was another hour or so before Abuela Claudia’s form was fully fleshed out. Probably just to spite Sonny, Pete avoided filling in the eyes, save for the occasional darkening of the wrinkles around them. In the dark, it was a very eerie effect indeed: instead of the happy, smiling woman he knew, he found himself staring at an abuela-like shell bearing an empty grin with hollow black pits for eyes. Sonny shivered. Over the night, his trashcan had scooted closer and closer to the lantern and Pete as they struck up a conversation in lieu of Sonny’s useless assistance.

“I dunno, Pete. I just don’t KNOW.”

“There must be an answer.”

“Maybe it’s a genetic thing? Like an ankle adaptation? Survival of the fittest?”

“TAWs haven’t been around long enough for women to adapt to them, Sonshine.”

“Well, maybe we’re changing. All I know is that it should NOT be possible for girls to run that fast in shoes THAT high, but they do.”  
“You know what? That should be the next olympic sport.”

“TAW track-and-field.”

“TAW 50-yard dash.”

“Just IMAGINE the calves.”

Sonny whistled and Pete laughed, stepping away from the grate for the first time in a while. Sonny took a look at the portrait and gasped.

“Shit. Did I mess it up? Don’t worry, I can do it over, it won’t take long…” Pete rambled quickly, picking up a white spray can and beginning to shake it.

“No,” Sonny interrupted, still staring at the grate.

He didn’t know _what_ Pete had managed to do, exactly, but he had filled in Abuela Claudia’s eyes. She was no longer a shell. All at once, her smile seemed infinitely more vibrant, lighting up the picture, and the bodega grate, and he barrio. It glinted with the compassion and infinite wisdom that only Abuela Claudia could– _would_ – ever possess.

All at once, the gravity of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks and all the feelings he’d tried so hard to keep down surfaced at the same time. Abuela Claudia was gone. She was never coming back. But then she was _there_ again. Her smile lit up the streets, and he could feel her love like she’d never left. And she never would. If the barrio was like a river, stumbling and changing and rushing ever forward, she was a stone in it, steady and ever-present as the world rushed by around her.

And _Pete_ had brought her back. With a few strokes, he had brought her back to life. He had revived the barrio.  
He was standing next to the portrait, paint can still in hand. He looked rather small as he peered anxiously at Sonny without a trace of a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, man. Maybe if I hung out with her a little more when she was here, I could’ve remembered better… I know I messed it up, you don’t have to pay for this, I’ll give you the money back… I hope I didn’t mess up her memory for you, I really didn’t mean to make you cry…”

Sonny blinked, realizing for the first time that tears were flowing freely down his cheeks as they blurred his vision. He brushed them away quickly and averted his eyes from Abuela Claudia to Pete.

“Pete. This is– this is incredible,” he whispered.

Pete sighed and tossed the white can to his other hand, stepping in front of the portrait as if to block it from view.

“Sonny, really, you don’t have to lie to me. You won’t hurt my feelings. Believe me, I’ve heard it all.”

He stared at Pete, who was now avoiding his eyes.

Every single day, Pete would talk excitedly about his latest project, his goals, what he wanted to do, and where he could do it. He came alive when he was painting, his arms and hands and eyes all moving in different rhythms, different cadences, but all coming together when he stepped back from his canvas. Then he would close himself off, glance at his work with almost a nervous sense of pride, and then they would walk away. Sonny would have to take over the conversation, because Pete always fell silent afterward. And he never understood why, until now.

Despite Pete’s brilliant work, he was the neighborhood vandal. Usnavi scorned at his proudly made t-shirts and chased him out of the bodega. People frowned at the splashes of color he put on the walls, called it tagging, and oftentimes painted over it by the next day. Nobody understood what those projects meant to him, the intricacies of each paint stroke of color. Nobody understood how much he meant to the barrio, how every mural and tag and colorful shirt changed their lives as much as they changed the buildings and walls.

Not even _Pete_ knew.

So Sonny had a new task now that the painting was finished. He had to make Pete know how much he meant to the barrio. And there was really only one thing he could think of to do.

Well, that was a lie. Maybe there were two or three things, but there was only one thing he really _wanted_ to do.

And fuck it. If Pete could do it, so could he.

“Pete?”

“Yeah?” He met his eyes furtively, still standing defensively in front of Abuela Claudia.

“Could you take three steps to the right?”

“Why?” Pete frowned, but obeyed slowly.

Sonny waited until he had done it to answer.

“Because I just fixed this grate, and I don’t want to mess up your portrait.”

Taking a deep breath, Sonny nearly ran at Pete, pinned him against the wall, and pulled him down to press their lips together.

Pete didn’t react for a moment, but then he brought his hands to Sonny’s face and kissed back harder. For a moment, they stayed like that, pressed together so close that any passers-by would have only seen one silhouette. And then their heads broke apart, but only for a moment. Sonny looked up, but Pete didn’t even open his eyes as he smiled and a long sigh left his lips.

“Fuckin’ FINALLY.”

And then they were back together again, embracing passionately and desperately and not daring to let go of each other. Pete grabbed Sonny’s hips and brought him closer to him, and Sonny pushed him harder against the wall as Pete pressed his mouth open and Sonny groaned against his lips. The kiss became another, and another, and another, and Sonny’s hands were under Pete’s shirt, his thigh pressing between Pete’s legs, and Pete’s fingers were tangling and tugging at Sonny’s curls. His baseball cap lay discarded on the ground next to a white spray can.

Sonny groaned again. For all the time they spent there pressed together as one tangled, twisting silhouette, he figured there would have been at least a _little_ time there they had talked about what the hell they were doing.

But so far, they hadn’t.

_But then again,_ Sonny thought as Pete bit at his lower lip and he sighed, sliding his hands further up Pete’s chest, _talking is overrated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID ANYBODY CATCH MY REFERENCE TO LIN'S TWEET LMK  
> Because if not I'm kinda just awkwardly breaking the fourth wall hehe whoops
> 
> Chapter 14 Sneak Peek:  
> Four more days.


	14. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usnavi packs and Benny is trying his best.
> 
> Except Usnavi has an aversion to packing and Benny's best isn't succeeding.
> 
> So essentially, nothing happens in this chapter.

Four more days.

The phone call that morning had made it official. In four days, everything was changing. In four days, there would be no more barrio.

Usnavi couldn’t get himself up from bed. Well, that wasn't an exceptional fact, because _most_ days it was hard to get himself up from bed. But today it was especially hard. He lay face-down, spread-eagled on the mattress, just thinking about the coming week.

Perhaps the foremost though nagging at him was that he REALLY needed to start packing. But he didn’t want to. And besides, he had four days. What was the rush?

A knock on the door made him groan and finally push himself up. Not too long after, there was another. And another. And another.

“I’m coming, I’M COMING!” he groaned, ambling slowly to the doorway as the knocking continued incessantly. Finally, he found himself face-to-face with a very anxious-looking Benny.

“Usnavi, oh, good. You’re okay.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Benny shrugged and looked around nervously, opening his hands in a vague sort of gesture. “Well, with everything that’s happened and all–”

“Right. I- yeah, I’m good.” That was a tiny bit of a lie, considering Usnavi still had moments when he’d stand up to go see Abuela Claudia before he realized he– well, he _couldn’t_ , and then fell into a bit of a sad silence. But all things considered, he really was okay. The nearly blinding grief he’d felt when he heard the news had eased considerably, and as in all things, life went on. Her last wish was for him to go back with her, back home to the Caribbean. And he was going to do it. In four days.

If he ever got packed.

Benny was still standing at his doorway, anxiously twisting his hands. Usnavi shook his head quickly to clear his thoughts and stepped back, gesturing to his apartment.

“Did you want to come in?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I really just came to check on you,” he replied, shuffling through the doorway and awkwardly standing in the living room. “Things got real busy in a short amount of time. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. Like are you taking your medication and stuff?”

Usnavi paused in the hallway after closing the door and locking it. “How do you know about my medication?”

Benny’s eyes widened and he looked back down at his nervously twisting fingers. “S-sorry, I didn’t think you wanted it secret. I just- you know, Abuela Claudia mentioned it a couple times, but just vaguely, and I wanted to make sure–”

“No, it’s not a secret, I just didn’t know how you knew.”

Benny stopped talking, immediately dropping his hands and shutting his lips tight. Usnavi was startled by his behavior– Benny was _never_ nervous. He was the embodiment of cool. And now he was acting like… well, like Usnavi.

“Are YOU okay? You seem a little distracted.”

Benny sighed and seemed to relax a little. “Yeah, well, like I said, there’s a lot going on right now.”

“I think you need a talk more than I do. Tell you what– no, I haven’t taken my pills this morning. So I’ll go take them now, and then I’ll go make us both some coffee and while I’m doing all that, you can sit down and tell me everything that’s on your mind. Ready set go.”

Usnavi smiled and walked to the bathroom where his blue pills had made their home after coming out of Abuela’s medicine cabinet. While he walked, Benny took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Wooh. Okay. So yeah, I know you have to sell the bodega and there’s still no power and you have to pack and all, so you’re kinda busy. But I kinda have a lot, too. Well, first, I’m sure you heard that Nina decided to go back to Stanford next semester?”

“Mhm,” Usnavi answered through a mouthful of water from the bathroom, pill in hand. Nina had told him the night before about her decision, and how it was Abuela Claudia’s last wish for her, in a way.

“Yeah. So, I’m reeeally happy for her, and all, don’t get me wrong, but she goes back on Labor day. That’s, like, two months from now. We’re gonna try the long distance thing and all, but I’m worried that she’s gonna meet someone else in California, someone smarter, someone– well, someone who goes to Stanford. And that’s totally not her fault, no, not at all. But it means that what we have, we might only have for two months. So I gotta find a way to make it all... worth it, I guess. You know?”

Usnavi nodded and smiled sympathetically on his way past the living room and to the kitchen. Benny took it as encouragement and continued.

“So yeah, there’s that. And on TOP of that, I’m out of a job now. Which ain’t the Rosario’s fault either, I get it. But I still need one, and I’m thinking of buying the dispatch from Uptown Investments, or asking my dad to buy it back. I just need to work out the financial stuff, and you know how that goes. It’s all just messy shit. Oh- and before Nina goes back I wanna throw her a party. Not a big one, but just a little ‘we got you’ kinda deal. But it’s… Nina. So it has to be perfect. And I don’t know if I can do perfect. I mean, I’ll certainly try, but like my half-brother always says, ‘history has its eyes on you, Benny, and sometimes you only get one shot to do it right.’ I mean, I know he was probably referring to the government or some shit, because, y'know, his job. But this party is like my shot, ‘cause I only get one, and then she’s gone ‘till Christmas. Oh, and speaking of my brother, he wants to visit for the holidays, so there’s THAT to worry about too, what with the Secret Service business, and PLUS, I gotta make sure this place stays safe now that there’s no power, because I guess I gotta prove to them that Washington Heights can handle and our crime ain’t that bad, so my brother can walk down the streets without fear of getting shot or something. Like that’s somehow MY job. Am I the sole law enforcement here? Are there no police officers assigned to do that? There’s just so much to deal with and it’s all… just… STRESS.”

Usnavi watched from the kitchen counter as Benny flopped dramatically onto the couch and chuckled a little as he brought two steaming mugs over to him. “Quite the load you got there.”

“Thanks,” Benny sighed, gratefully taking one of the mugs and sipping it slowly. “Hm. This is good. I hope you didn’t waste your cold fridge air for this.”

Usnavi shook his head. “I used condensed milk. It was Abuela’s secret recipe.”

“Mm. Thanks, Abuela.”

Neither of them said anything for a while after that, sipping their coffees in silence. It was Benny who finally spoke up, frowning at his mug.

“Did you– have you spoken to Vanessa lately?”

Usnavi looked at him, raising an eyebrow. It was a very odd conversational topic, and Benny seemed to have regained that nervous, tense air.

“Yeah, actually, I did.”

“Oh. And…?”

Despite his confusion, Usnavi felt a grin creep up on his face as he recalled their conversation.

“She kissed me.”

Benny’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline and his head snapped up to stare at him. “She WHAT?”

Usnavi giggled like a little kid. “Yeah! It was a little confusing, and she seemed a little distracted, but she did. And then she left. It was a great way to say good-bye, though.” Usnavi smiled at Benny. He soon dropped the grin, though, when he realized Benny didn’t seem happy at all.

In fact, he seemed terrified.

“Geez, I thought that was a good thing?” Usnavi’s giddiness drained quickly at Benny’s expression. Did the kiss mean something he didn’t see? Did he do something wrong?

Benny opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. Opened it, closed it. With each passing second, some of the bewildering terror bled from Benny into Usnavi, whose stomach got a little more uneasy each time the other opened his mouth uselessly.

“What did I do? Benny, you’re scaring me.”

“Nothing!” Benny finally squeaked, making Usnavi jump. Benny _never_ squeaked. Usnavi, they all knew, was the squeaker of the barrio.

“I just– no, that’s great, Usnavi. I’m sorry, I have to go. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Benny, what–”

“I just remembered, I have an– I have to go. See you later.”

Benny set his mug down on the coffee table and stood abruptly, waving quickly before turning and nearly running down the hall. He opened the door and looked back only once before he was gone.

_What was that about?_ he wondered, staring at Benny’s half-empty mug. He was, admittedly, quite confused and just a little concerned. Did Vanessa’s visit mean more than he thought it did? And why did Benny care so much? _Well,_ Usnavi thought, _He WAS always my wingman. I guess he has the right to care as much as I do._

He shrugged and pushed himself off the couch, picking up both mugs and bringing them to the sink. He resigned himself to acknowledging that he would never understand the intricacies of the female mind.

The clock on the counter (which he had brought from Abuela Claudia’s apartment, along with her gas range, because he had absolutely nothing non-electronic of his own) read five minutes past seven. It felt odd being at home at this hour, and not waking up at the crack of dawn to open the bodega. He almost felt bad that he would never do that again. Sonny had asked if he himself could run it after Usnavi left, ignoring his protests about school and his studies. Benny had chimed in, too, offering to help during Sonny’s school hours. It wasn’t a bad idea, he had to admit, but Benny didn’t belong behind a bodega counter for six hours a day. Graffiti Pete had also offered to work. Now _there_ was a bad idea. Usnavi had flatly refused, arguing that half the store’s inventory would be gone before paying customers ever walked in.

But then Sonny had said quietly that he wasn’t coming back, so why should he even care. That had stung a little. And so it was decided that Sonny could do whatever he wanted with the store.

Usnavi couldn’t ignore the guilt he felt at leaving his little cousin behind. Over the last four years, he’d watched the kid grow up and grew pretty attached to him along the way. He had to admit that he felt a growing sense of accountability for the kid, and was proud that he was slowly learning to take responsibility for his own things and actually work for stuff. And Abuela Claudia had always beamed when she saw Sonny and Usnavi working together at the bodega.

But she had also stated (many times, actually) how tough the kid was. And Usnavi had to agree. It always made him uneasy to think he was leaving behind such a huge part of his life, but that was the whole point of moving in the first place. And Sonny had managed to take care of himself before he came into the barrio, so why not after he left?

Usnavi stood at his kitchen counter, unsure of what to do with himself. Make coffee? No, he _did_ that already. Watch TV? No, there was no electricity. Usnavi massaged his forehead with his fingers. What did he need to do? Finally, the never-ceasing thought that had been plaguing him ever since the day before resurfaced.

He REALLY needed to start packing.

Sighing resignedly, he walked past the counter and made his way to his room. The sooner he got started, the sooner it would be over with. If he just–

OR.

His front door had drawn his eyes as he walked past, and he stopped to look at it.

_OR, you could take a walk around the barrio._

“Yeah, I like that better,” he said to himself, grabbing his hat and heading out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left in Part One YAY!!  
> Well, one chapter and an epilogue. So technically two chapters. And then an entire Part Two. And possibly Part Three.
> 
> Chapter 15 Sneak Peek:  
> The morning light off the fire escapes glinted cheerfully as Usnavi walked past, and he felt an ache of longing in his heart.


	15. Usnavi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last one! The finale! The big finish! The conclusion wherein nobody's surprised at all because you've all listened to/seen ITH and know how this goes down!
> 
> except there's an epilogue after this but we don't need to concern ourselves with that because it's ¡EL ÚLTIMO CAPÍTULA!

The morning light off the fire escapes glinted cheerfully as Usnavi walked past, and he felt an ache of longing in his heart. He really was going to miss the barrio. Kevin, dispensing wisdom from his dispatch booth. The hushed tones blending with the constant snip of hair at the salon. The groggy faces walking into the bodega, bringing gentle voices and melodic laughter and swirls of cool morning air. A soft breeze off the Hudson River caressed his face gently, and a cool, fine mist followed it. Somebody must have opened the fire hydrants.

With every step, a new memory sparked to life in his mind– and not the kind that gave him headaches. There was Sonny, mixing candy in with his slushies, brow furrowed in concentration. There was Vanessa, her hair swinging behind her as she walked on the other side of the street, smiling and raising a hand at him in greeting. There was Benny’s voice crackling through the dispatch for the first time, freestyling the traffic report and announcing Nina’s arrival. There was Abuela Claudia, beaming at him and taking his hand the first time he stepped into the barrio.

_Just when you think you get sick of living here, the memory floods in._

But Abuela Claudia had wanted him on that beach with a glass in hand, relaxing at his bar and making his own stories. And in four days, that was how it was gonna be.

If he ever got packed, that is.

He tried to imagine himself walking through the streets on a day like today, but with a suitcase behind him and a taxi just a few feet in front of him. He tried to imagine leaving the barrio, and waving at the smiling faces as he passed them for the last time. He tried to imagine getting on a 747 boarding JFK.

Abuela Claudia had mentioned something about a private airliner, maybe, when she had been discussing their plans for leaving. Usnavi hadn’t really been listening well, because he had been so excited. That morning, he had to make his own reservation, having forgotten if she had made them or not already. Usnavi shivered at the memory. For some reason, it made that familiar pain above his eyebrow throb very, very hard.

_“Good afternoon, this is JetBlue speaking, how may I help you?” the voice over the line greeted, not warmly, but not coldly, either. It seemed just familiar enough to make Usnavi think that he might’ve known this man, but neither his name or his face came to mind’s eye. That was when the intense eyebrow throbbing had begun._

_“Hi, can I book a flight for the Dominican Republic?”_

_“Of course. Where is your departure from?”_

_“JFK.”_

_“And I’ll assume you want to arrive at Gregorio Lupéron International?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“How many fliers are you booking for today?”_

_“Just me.”_

_“And what date would you like to leave?”_

_“I don’t know, what do you have available?”_

_“Hmm… Does Friday morning work?”_

_“Perfect.”_

_“Good. So I have a flight for Friday, July 10th, 11:00 departure from JFK, boarding at 10:15 A.M. Does this sound good, Mr…”_

_Between the pounding at his head and a sudden lurching of his gut, Usnavi suddenly had a VERY strong feeling that he should not give this man his name. But that was ridiculous, and besides, he sort of HAD to to get on that airplane. So he did it anyway._

_“De la Vega. Usnavi de la Vega.”_

_“Got it.” The voice didn’t miss a beat, but that insistent feeling of impropriety didn’t go away. “Would you also like to book a return flight?”_

_“No, thank you.”_

_The voice on the other end was silent for a moment, and then–_

_“As you wish.”_

_Usnavi could’ve sworn that the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees. He shivered at the almost tangible iciness in the voice’s tone, and his head pounded even harder._

_“Okay, Mr. De la Vega, the total for your one flight is five-hundred and seventeen dollars and nineteen cents. I’m assuming you’ll pay when you arrive?” The iciness had disappeared. Usnavi wondered if he’d imagined it._

_“Yes.”_

_“Very good. Thank you for choosing JetBlue, and if you have any questions about your reservation, do not hesitate to call our customer service line. Have a great day.”_

_The line clicked dead._

Usnavi shuddered again at the memory and a faint pounding was back in his brow. It must’ve been grief that made his head pound so hard; it was a little hard to book a flight for one like that, especially right after her passing. He shook his head to clear the thoughts and looked up to see the bodega and boarded-up salon just ahead. His feet must’ve led him there out of habit.

“What it do? Ha-ha! Sunlight is great this morning,” a voice greeted him. As Usnavi walked closer, he saw two figures leaning against the bodega. One was shorter and curly-haired and bore a familiar mischievous smile, and the other that had greeted him was taller, thinner, and his voice sounded like–

God FUCKING DAMMIT.

“Aye yo cuz, we fixed the grate,” Sonny chimed in as Usnavi got closer, but he ignored it, feeling a familiar sense of annoyance at the sight of his cousin’s constant companion.

“Yo, what did I tell you about this _punk?_ ” He gestured irritably to Graffiti Pete, who at least had the decency to shrink away and back off from the wall. Sonny stepped in front of him protectively and stared Usnavi down.

“You have to commission an artist while his rate is still good!” he protested.

Usnavi dropped his hands in confusion.

“What?”

“We stayed up all night making it,” Sonny explained.

"Making what?"

“It’s the first work in my new series,” Pete added, stepping out from behind Sonny and toward the open grate.

“You’d better start making some sense soon, or I’m calling the p–”

In one fast motion, Pete pulled the grate down, and Usnavi’s words dropped like stones as he caught sight of the portrait on it.

_Woah._

“He hates it,” he heard Pete mumble behind him.

“Shhh. He’s forming an artistic opinion,” Sonny whispered back. Usnavi ignored them, transfixed by the image in front of him.

He stared at Abuela Claudia’s smiling face. All around her, the stores and buildings and high-rises from around the barrio stood tall against the bodega grate. The sky behind her faded from brilliant orange to bright pink, and large letters spelling out her name were colored in dark blue melting into inky black with bright speckles of stars splashed across them. The stars reflected in her eyes as she beamed at him, every wrinkle and crease around her eyes radiating her compassion and wisdom and wholehearted affection. In one corner, the words “Paciencia y fe” were nestled in a patch of leaves.

“You did this last night?”

“Yeah,” Pete replied quietly.

Usnavi couldn’t tear his eyes from her face. Pete had somehow managed to capture her essence, all right there in eight hours. Standing there staring the leaves and buildings and stars, Usnavi felt an odd tugging sensation at his chest. In all the years he’d known her, he had never really realized how much she had touched not only his life, but all the lives in Washington Heights.

He remembered Nina’s slow memorial song, and all the recipes she asked for afterward. In the end, it was Abuela who had finally convinced her to go back to Stanford. And then there was Benny, who somehow took it upon himself to assume Abuela’s responsibilities over Usnavi (that was a weird one, but still, it was sweet). Vanessa, too, had come to him with more affection after she had passed, even if it meant something he didn’t quite understand. And then, here were Sonny and Pete creating a perfect memorial of everything she stood for. They had all kept her memory, shared her story, even as she left them. And Usnavi, who now owned her bottle cap collection, who used to give her her breadcrumbs every day to feed her birds, who could still feel the spot on his head where she brushed over as she embraced him–

“There goes my flight,” he mumbled.

“What?” Sonny breathed from behind him. Usnavi still didn’t take his eyes off the portrait as he reached into his pants pocket for the wad of cash he’d stuck there.

“Yeah. So, there’s been a slight change of plans. Graffiti Pete, take this, you’re gonna need some more paint cans.”

“A’ight, nice,” Pete said, before taking the money from his fingers. Usnavi finally turned and faced the two of them. Sonny was staring at him dumbly, lips moving slowly as he struggled to comprehend the words coming out of Usnavi’s mouth. Pete was thumbing through the bills, his lips moving and his eyes widening as he counted them.

“Listen up, you two, I got a job for you. Run now and tell the whole block that I’m stayin’–”

“Usnavi, don’t joke like that–”

“I’m not playin’! Hurry now, before it gets too hot. Sonny–”

Pete had immediately nodded and ran off, but Usnavi grabbed his little cousin’s shoulder before he could follow and turned him around.

What Usnavi _meant_ to say was ‘thank you’ or ‘good job’ or maybe something like ‘I love you.’ But he couldn’t. A sudden giant lump appeared in his throat as he looked at Sonny’s bright eyes, and his cousin beamed up at him. He smiled back as he swallowed, hoping he could convey everything he wanted to say. Sonny grinned wider. He seemed to understand.

“Alright, go!” Sonny ran off then, practically skipping.

Usnavi turned around and took one last look at Abuela Claudia before bending down and raising the grate.

As much as he loved that portrait, he had a bodega to open.

“Sorry, Abuela, I’m not going back, I’m telling your story,” he whispered as he lifted the metal and unlocked his door. If not him, who was going to keep her secret recipes? Who was going to keep on feeding those gigantic city pigeons? Who else was gonna stare at the stars while the blackout continued?

Okay, yeah, so maybe he would be working that bodega ‘till he followed Abuela Claudia up into the sky. But dammit, Sonny had to eat, and Benny couldn’t deal with that shit on his own. Who else could keep the coffee brewing? Who was going to keep their legacies? It sure as hell wasn’t no A&P Groceries, that was for sure.

And– Usnavi grinned as he fired up the gas range and put some water on to boil– he would never have to pack his stupid bags. He was gonna get a second date with Vanessa. He was gonna be Benny’s best fucking wingman in the history of wingmen, even if he never needed one again. He would give Nina all the pep-talks she needed to see Abuela Claudia’s wishes through and graduate Stanford with honors. He was gonna formally meet that man who had called him Alexander and make him the best damn cup of coffee on the east coast.

So yeah, maybe Usnavi would never find his island or his past. But maybe that was okay. It was like Abuela Claudia had said: It was time to make his own stories, and find his _own_ narrative. And Usnavi de la Vega was a streetlight on his bodega corner, chilling in the summer heat, illuminating the stories of the people that passed through. Maybe he _did_ find that island of his. Maybe he had been on it that whole time.

The morning light off the fire escapes gleamed like light reflecting off the ocean. Lampposts stood like palm trees in a sea of people. If he closed his eyes, the piraguero’s constant call and the chatter of the cityfolk were the singsong voices of exotic birds, and the mist blowing from the busted fire hydrants was a cool sea breeze washing over his face. Maybe in the summer, it was a hundred degrees in the shade, and in winter it was cold enough to freeze the breath straight out of their mouths, but with patience and faith the people remained unafraid, and danced into the night singing songs of joy and waving the flags of their beloved homelands high into the sky. There weren’t any parties like that anywhere else he could think of. 

_No, there’s only one place where that music fills the air, take the train to the top of the world and I’m there–_

“I’m home!” he cried, pushing the door to his bodega wide open and holding his arms out to the barrio with a grin.

And that’s where he would stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *trumpets blaring*


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Exactly twelve minutes later**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it even count as an epilogue if it's twelve minutes later?
> 
> Let's look it up.  
> Epilogue (n.): a section or speech at the end of a book or play that serves as a comment on or a conclusion to what has happened.
> 
> Hm. Fair enough. We can proceed.

The laughing and conversation in the bodega was punctuated by the door banging open and the bell above it chiming merrily. Usnavi looked up from the second pot of water he was boiling to greet his newest customer.

“Hey, Benny-”

“ _WHAT THE FUCK?_ ” Benny yelled, throwing his hands up in the air and glaring straight at Usnavi. The bodega fell silent.

“Nina slipped out from behind him, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t know why he’s–”

“YOU’RE STAYING?” Benny yelled again, and Usnavi flinched. Nina giggled again.

“Uh… yeah?” He responded hesitantly. He shot a look at Vanessa, who was sitting on the counter. She just shrugged in response.

“Is that… are you… _mad_ about that?” Daniela asled curiously from where she was leaning on an aisle shelf. Her lips were pursed in that “tell me something I don’t know” pucker that only she could manage.

“MAD? I’M FUCKING THRILLED!” He yelled, balling his hands into fists and stomping his foot. The gesture was pretty much the exact opposite of thrilled, but then again, there wasn’t any sarcasm in his tone, either. Daniela glanced at Carla who, quite frankly, looked terrified.

“Then why don’t you tell us why you’re so… stompy?” Nina asked him, still smiling.

“BECAUSE I– ALL THAT TIME– AND YOU JUST– GAAAAH!” Benny threw up his hands again, turned on his heel and stormed out of the bodega, slamming the door behind him. The bell chimed merrily, announcing his departure.

Nina giggled again after a few seconds, turning to Usnavi. “He really is happy you’re staying. I don’t know, he just– when Sonny told us, he kinda just froze and suddenly he was all angry and offended or something. But right before that, he was asking me how he could get you to stay, anyway. So I really don’t know.”

“Wait, he asked ME that too,” Vanessa spoke up, jumping off the counter.

“Interesting,” Daniela intoned, more to herself than anything.

“Maybe he was mad that of all the people who could’ve made me stay, it was Graffiti Pete,” Usnavi suggested, grinning. Pete was leaning on the opposite wall, and at the mention of his name, shook his head and looked down at his feet.

“AN’ HIS MANAGER!” Sonny chimed in through a mouthful of Cheetos, jumping down from his spot on the counter next to Vanessa to clap Pete on the shoulder.

“ _Oye,_ Sonny, you gonna pay for those?”

“That depends, cuz, are you gonna make loyal customers pay for food with glass shards in it?” Sonny shot a look back at him before gesturing to a pile of punctured food bags on the counter.

“Ooh, in that case, I want some!”

“Me too!”

“ _A mí también!_ ”

Sonny laughed and snatched his own Cheeto bag before any grabby hands could touch it. Vanessa ended up grabbing a packet of Skittles. Nina got Doritos. Daniela had maneuvered her hips and managed to bump everyone else out of the way and grab the family-sized bag of Lay’s Potato Chips, which she held between herself and a grinning Carla.

Usnavi glared at each of them in turn, arms still crossed. “Just because it’s damaged merchandise doesn’t mean you should eat it– in fact, that’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what it should mean.”

“Well.” Sonny waggled a Cheeto at him in response before opening his mouth to pop it in. Before he could, though, Pete’s hand snatched it up and shoved it into his own mouth.

“HEY!” Sonny protested.

“Just makin’ sure it’s safe,” Pete smiled. Vanessa laughed, and Nina joined in, and once again all the occupants of the bodega were laughing and chatting with each other like it was the easiest thing in the world. Which, Usnavi supposed, it was.

Even if things were changing, the feeling of lounging there in the bodega, talking amidst the warm aroma of brewing coffee would never get old. They sat there as people came and went, content with each others’ company. They listened to stories and songs and chatted with the customers that came through. And even though Abuela Claudia was gone, she was sitting with them. They could feel her watching over them like she always had, and not because her face was literally rolled up above the bodega door.

Even if things were changing, this would never change. It was happy. It was familiar. It was home. Usnavi couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

That is, until Pete straightened and shouldered his backpack.

“I gotta go. I got another project, and I wanna finish ‘fore it gets too hot.”

“Guess I’m headin’ out too,” Sonny added, jumping off the counter to meet him at the door.

“Uh, no, you aren’t,” Usnavi shot back. “You kinda got a _job,_ Mr. De la Vega, and it’s not being Pete’s partner-in-crime.”

“His manager, actually,” Sonny corrected, putting his hand on the door handle. Usnavi sighed, too lazily content to argue further. There were no customers at the moment, and there wasn’t much to do. Sonny didn’t leave, though. He paused, still with one hand on the door, and looked from Usnavi to Pete and back to Usnavi, a slow grin growing on his face.

“His manager and his boyfriend.”

At that moment, Benny walked back into the bodega to a very strange sight, indeed. The bodega bell was chiming. Nina was gasping. Vanessa was squealing. Carla had one hand over her mouth, the other crumpling a potato chip bag that was clutched to her chest. Daniela stood next to her, cackling victoriously with her head thrown back. Sonny was pushing past him, one hand grasping Pete’s as he pulled him outside, yelling “Okay, byeeeeeeee” over his shoulder. The only other thing that could be heard over all the commotion was Usnavi, whose voice rang out loud and clear.

“SONNY DE LA VEGA!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *does jazz hands* Ta-daaa!
> 
> Thank you guys so much for all this support! I decided to just put this out there because it was fun to write and I never expected this much love. Actually, truth be told, my friend read it before I decided to do all this and she said it was stupid (to which I said "oh well" and did it anyway lol). But I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH AND I HOPE I'VE MADE YOU SMILE AT LEAST AS MUCH AS YOU'VE ALL MADE ME SMILE
> 
> I'm probably gonna take a little break and focus on schoolwork and rehab-ing my arm, but keep an eye out for part 2 coming soon!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all for reading :)


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